


You Can't Hide From Your Gayness, Jeremy

by H0n3yK1tt3n



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: -Everyone at me, Am I cluttering the tags?, Angst?, Bisexual Jeremy Heere, But I also slept instead of writing this, However... Nah that's all I'm saying, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I can call it a slow burn at this point right?, I don't know what I'm doing, I mean I do but I don't, I'm tagging this as I go, Implied/Referenced Crossovers, Kind of an au?, M/M, Oh hell yeah there's angst, Please don't hate me if it's bad, Slow Burn, Some fluff and humor scattered throughout, The author is SLLOOOOOOOW, Weed?, Well I am and you can't stop me, You'll see why I say kind of, everyone get your permission slips for a feels trip, first fic, how does that work?, in this house we dine on angst and we put our favorite characters through hell, like always, mild swearing?, probably, the squip is an ass, yet - Freeform, “There’s a lot of angst can you calm down you’re scaring me”
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-11 03:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 149,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12926805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/H0n3yK1tt3n/pseuds/H0n3yK1tt3n
Summary: It was a case of Jeremy’s emotions being a little too intense one day and acting on impulse. Call it hormones or something. Call it Christine being in the same place as Jeremy at the right time. Call it Rich being in the same place as Jeremy at the wrong time. Call it Jeremy being desperate enough to go to such drastic measures. Call it an ever-present, underlying need to be popular that’d been there since seventh grade at latest. Call it whatever you will, it was and will continue to be the stupidest thing that Jeremy’s ever done.(Or, if you want to go by the original summary that is grossly uninteresting:)More or less the same events of the musical, except that Jeremy doesn't want to get with Christine out of any desire to be with her. Nah, he's liked Michael since forever. He's a pining gay boy and he doesn't know what to do.





	1. More Than Survive

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of a roleplay my friend and I had. (Don't get too excited, we just text. I regrettably don't have any other way of role playing.) We worked out the beginning and end. (Not "beginning" as in this first chapter, but probably the next one.) I'm making up everything in the middle. Enjoy. I'm probably digging myself into a hole.

"C-c-c-c'mon, c-c-c-c'mon! Go, go!" Great, of course his computer would decide to go painfully slowly. Watching porn was the only reason Jeremy got up as early as he did everyday, he almost thought it motivated him in a way. It almost convinced him that he could make it through the day despite the struggles. But nope, his computer was not having it right now. He continued clicking his mouse in desperation to get the page to load. God, today was gonna suck, Jeremy could already tell.

He began to notice that he was clicking his mouse to a somewhat catchy beat. He absentmindedly repeated his 'words of encouragement' to the computer. "C-c-c-c'mon, c-c-c-c'mon! Go, go!" Oh boy... "I'm waitin' for my porno to load. My brain is gonna freakin' explode." Wow, Jeremy accidentally started writing a song just by narrating his frustration.

He decided not to sing aloud out of fear of his dad hearing him. Also because talking to yourself is weird, especially in public. A quick glance at his clock told Jeremy that he ought to be on his way to hell. Oh wait, not hell, school. Yeah, that.

He started taking his accidental song-writing quite a bit further than he thought he would, even writing lyrics while deciding whether or not to ride the bus and more still when he begrudgingly got on. He even went so far as to write them as notes in his phone because, hey, maybe this could go somewhere.

Later on in lunch, things were going about as well as Jeremy thought they would that morning. Until, of course, he caught a glimpse of his friend of 12 years. "Michael!" He called out.

 


	2. Even More Than Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gay pining. And a lie. Oh boy, Jeremy messed up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who have left kudos and comments! They really make me smile! :3

Michael swiftly spun around to look at Jeremy, his white headphones on and 7-Eleven slushie in-hand. Jeremy could tell he was listening to music by the way he came over with a spring in his step, and how Michael danced around him and practically sang a greeting to him.

"Jeremy, my buddy, how's it hangin'? Lunch is bangin', had my sushi, got my slushie and more!" Energy radiated off of Michael, as Jeremy couldn't help but grin and bounce slightly as his friend spoke to him.

"The roll was negimaki and I'm feelin' kinda cocky cuz the girl at Sev-Elev gave me a generous pour." He continued, lightly shaking his drink in Jeremy's direction. The blue-eyed boy rolled his eyes, smile not faltering in the slightest. "You're listening to Bob Marley again, aren't you?"

"OOhhh!" Jeremy jumped a little at his friend's sudden exclamation, but Michael didn't seem to notice, or didn't care if he had. "I'm listenin' to Marley and the groove is hella gnarly and we're almost at the end of the song." Michael struck a few more poses before sliding his headphones off his ears to rest on his neck. "And that was the end, now tell me, friend. How was class? You look like ass, what's wrong?"

The energy stayed in his voice, but it did show the slightest bit of concern. What WAS wrong? Other than the fact that Jeremy wasn't able to jack off that morning. Had today been going more dreadfully than even he thought, or was he just feeling especially apathetic? Or...

"I uh, wrote a letter to my crush telling them how I feel." His godforsaken crush. Jeremy didn't talk about 'them' much, but Michael still offered encouragement or to be hired as a wingman if Jeremy didn't have the balls to talk to this illusive crush. That wasn't the problem, or that wasn't ALL of the problem. "That's progress!" Michael reassured anyway. "I tore it up and flushed it!" Jeremy continued, the teen in front of him deflating at the added on statement. "T... That's still progress...!" Was it though? Was it really? He awkwardly shuffled forward as if to walk away from the utter disappointment that was himself. Michael, thankfully, followed.

"It's all good, man." He said, not only as a way to brush off Jeremy's failure as a life form, but as a segway into his current topic of interest. Jeremy would much rather think about whatever that was than anything about himself. "Hey, I saw on Discovery that humanity has stopped evolving!"

He said it with an almost giddiness? Obviously oblivious to the hype, Jeremy... agreed. In the form of a question. "That's... Good?" Michael picked up on the puzzled tone and continued in clarification. "Evolution is 'Survival of the Fittest', right? But now, because of technology, you don't have to be strong to survive!" He shot finger guns at Jeremy. "Which means there's never been a better time in history to be a loooosseeer!" Michael laughed, God, that laugh... "So own it! Why try to be cool when you can be-"

"Signing up for the play!" Jeremy had seen the sign-up sheet in the hall earlier that day, but he hadn't seen the poster promoting the after school play in the cafeteria until just now. He'd gotten a sudden boost of confidence hearing his friend basically say he had nothing to lose, if entirely unintentionally.

"I was gonna say 'getting stoned in my basement...'"

Well shit.

While he liked smoking pot with Michael as much the next guy, hell, more than he probably should, Jeremy was hoping his friend wouldn't have been so quick to shoot his theater idea down. He shouldn't have expected Michael to jump in with a 'Hell yeah, let's do it!' And he didn't, but now he was panicking. He honestly could've said anything else, why would he choose that of all things? Maybe he could play it off, blame his comment on something else. Or someone else.

"Uh, no! Cuz u-um..."

Fake name, fake name, think of a fake name.

"C-Christine signed up!"

Jeremy hoped a little too hard that that would be the end of it and Michael would brush off Jeremy's failure. Again. He did not. Dammit...

Michael raised an eyebrow in confusion. "...Christine?" He should've expected this. Christine was such a common name overall and there was a number of them that went to his school. Of course Michael would be confused as to who the hell Jeremy was talking about. He didn't even know. But he had already dug himself way too deep into his newly formed hole in a matter of about 2 seconds. He internally smacked himself for that.

"Y-yeah, Christiiine... Canigula?"

Jeremy didn't want to name one of the actual Christines because then his following comment would screw him over even more than each of his previous ones already had.

"She's um..." He got quieter. "The person? I? Like?"

If he named a real Christine, then Michael would more than likely want to play wingman. Because chances were that he knew one or more of them in some form or another. Wait, now Jeremy was confused. Again, Christine is a fairly common name, but did Christine Canigula go to the school? Was there one of those?

Probably not, considering Michael's response.

"O-oh, well... How come I've never heard of her...?"

Good job, Heere, you're stupid. Maybe try using your brain to think through your lies instead of punching it into submission when you say something even vaguely like you messed up.

"She- she's a transfer student." Jeremy blurted out. "Yeah, hasn't uh... Hasn't been here too long." Maybe that could be half believable. He didn't think he'd been visibly pining over his crush long enough for Michael to find that suspicious. Granted, he hadn't really been thinking, so what the hell did he know?

But thank God that Michael finally, FINALLY decided to buy into the fib. "...alright..."

Jeremy stood there tense, fiddling with the ends of his sleeves for a solid 5 seconds before a sudden shot of adrenaline ran through him. "So yeah! I'mgonnagodothatseeya!" And with that, he ran into the vague direction of the poster, obscuring himself from Michael as much as he could possibly manage, not even allowing his friend to make any sort of comment. He weaved through students and hid behind the best and closest wall or pillar or whatever he could find. He would take whatever he could get.

Jeremy let out a shaky breath when he was at least somewhat confident that his friend didn't know where he was. He wanted to make sure of that, because his face burned and he didn't even want to know how red it was. He knew it was red, there was just no denying.

That had been the shit show of the year. And with how much he had been internally beating himself up, he was pretty sure that his brain was a bloody, mushy pulp by now. So great, he covered up his desire to be in the school play by saying Christine Canigula (who didn't even exist to his knowledge) signed up. All the while covering up his crush on Michael with a crush on a girl who he had invented on the spot.

Right. His crush on Michael. God, how he cringed at that, and how he so badly wanted to deny any romantic feelings he had for him. He didn't even know when exactly he realized his subsequent attraction toward his long-time friend, but he figured he had been crushing for a long goddamn time. That much was clear.

And now here he is. Signing his name on the sign-up sheet for the after school play, which would be meeting later that day. I mean, hey, at least now he's doing what he wants to do without any real judgement from Michael. That's what he wanted in the end, right? That's why he lied, right?

Right?

...

God, he messed up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So hey, this is a thing. You will see why I truly listed Christine as a character later. ;)


	3. I "Love" Play Rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkward Jeremy is Heere. Is psychic Jeremy Heere? Good thing he's in a theater environment? His brain is in the 13th dimension for most of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote half of this in math after I finished my assignment because we had a sub. I don't know how to write for Mr. Reyes. Even though he's only in this for like, 5 seconds. Enjoy, or something. Very word vomit-y.

Jeremy saw a few familiar faces upon entering, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. Brooke and Chloe had signed up for the play as he soon came to realize, and the whispering came almost immediately when they had seen Jeremy walk through the door. He avoided eye contact as much as possible as he made his way through the room to sit himself down in a chair.

The girls' obvious gossip was reminiscent of earlier that day in the hall before he signed up. This, in turn, reminded him of the writing sprawled across his backpack courtesy of Rich. Jeremy swung his backpack off his shoulder and set it on his lap, looking at the 'BOYF' that was written in black marker.

Freaking Rich. The fact that the other half of the word 'boyfriends' was written on Michael's backpack made him want to punch the guy out of rage and embarrassment. But Jeremy didn't see that ending well for him, Rich could probably knock him out in a heartbeat despite the height difference.

He saw pictures on the Internet talking about how you shouldn't mess with a short girl because she can and will beat the shit out of you, some even saying that they were closer to hell. Jeremy wondered if that applied to short guys too. He wasn't any taller than any other guy at the school, he might've even been on the shorter side of the spectrum, beating out Rich and maybe a couple others. But he had still been so lovingly gifted the nickname 'Tall ass.'

He never called out Rich's height though, he didn't care for the thought of his face getting rearranged. Jeremy would have no chance of defending himself with his noodley stick arms. Wait, were his arms noodles or sticks? Sticks were stiff and noodles were limp. But noodles weren't limp uncooked, they only stopped being straight when they were put in hot water. Oh wonderful, now all he can think of are gay and boner parallels.

While Jeremy's mind was off in another dimension altogether, a few more students trickled into the room and one in particular was having a fairly animated conversation with Mr. Reyes. He paid no mind to them, mainly because he was too distracted by all the very not straight thoughts scittering through his mind that he tried and failed to wrangle up and dispose of.

He grabbed his water bottle and began drinking from it to clear his head. Jeremy figured that being distracted by anything (especially gay shit) wouldn't help him in any real way. When Mr. Reyes started speaking louder and very clearly to the rest of the people in the room, he started to slowly tune his words in. But all he caught was a quick welcome to everyone who signed up and something about a new student. Jeremy also caught a few other, more interesting things.

"...Wanted to... Introduced... Years of theater... Present to you, Miss Christine Canigula."

Jeremy almost choked on his drink, but stopped himself before he could fail to swallow it. Thankfully he hadn't over-compensated by spraying out all the water like in some cheesy sitcom or cartoon, but instead stayed in an awkward middle ground with it all gathered in his cheeks. Until of course, it started streaming down his chin like a waterfall.

Some heads turned in Jeremy's direction in confusion and curiosity at the sound of water splattering against his chair. Perfect, unwanted attraction is exactly what he wants right now, better to have it come sooner rather than later.

He started wiping hastily at his face, trying to dry his spill with the sleeve of his cardigan. And hey, just his luck that almost half of the contents of his accident ended up on his pants. How lovely.

While Jeremy's mind was doing a million backflips inside his skull, he looked completely blank faced on the outside. Or like he was high, or just plain stupid considering all the pairs of eyes on him. When they refused to look away from him for some time, Jeremy attempted at a reason for them to quit their worrying and/or silent but painfully obvious judgement.

"I'm good..." Jeremy croaked, which was followed by giggling from the gossip girls and murmured laughter from everyone else. But they finally directed their attention to each other and the theater teacher instead of him, so Jeremy had no right to complain. So now he could internally freak out in peace.

Ok. What. The shit. Christine WASN'T just some random person Jeremy made up? She actually existed?? And she went to this school? Or transferred? Where did she transfer from if that was the case? That's probably something the teacher had already said or was about to say. And Jeremy was paying no mind to any of his surroundings at the moment. But she signed up for the play?? And Jeremy didn't entirely lie to Michael? Completely by accident?! What. The actual. Hell?? What were the odds??

And then a thought dawned upon him, a thought that made him wish that he wasn't unintentionally psychic. One that made Jeremy wish the circumstances weren't miraculously perfect for his quarter-baked conspiracy designed for Michael, who just so happened to also be the guy he was crazy for. Crazy for and hopelessly in love with.

He would have to play straight and pretend to like Christine. Around his aforementioned crush at least. Theoretically, that shouldn't be too difficult, right? He was technically half straight, and the girl next to Mr. Reyes didn't look half bad. Her short black hair framed her roundish face nicely and she had a sweet smile. So could Jeremy do it? Could he pretend? He was in a spot where he would be learning how to act. Damn, when will everything stop being so weirdly convenient?

Maybe.

Maybe he could fake it long enough to fool Michael. Or maybe, just maybe, he could even fake it long enough to make it. To actually develop feelings for Christine Canigula. And to get over his feelings for Michael. Life would be so much easier then. He could have a chance at getting the girl (because he started to seriously doubt his abilities to get the guy on his mind long ago) and he wouldn't ruin his friendship with his best buddy. That was, in fact what he was most terrified of.

It could work. Fate had been on his side this long, what could go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism welcome. Please let me know if I get something wrong, I don't know what I'm doing. Hopefully this picks up more?


	4. At Least Someone's Enjoying Play Rehearsal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy gets to know Christine. That's about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the chapters I was iffy about. But I'm not mad with how it turned out, I'll tAKE IT.

Get-To-Know-You games: absolutely no one's favorite. But interacting with your peers and generally being social came with the theater life. Reciting lines and cooperating with one another during scenes would be awkward if you knew nothing about who you were doing those things with. Forming at least some kind of bond with everyone was encouraged and would logically help in the long run. Although it hardly mattered seeing as how nobody wanted to participate in the 'meeting new people' part of the exercise, pretending to not know their friends just to talk to them or being generally awkward.

Not Christine Canigula, she seemed to be all over the concept. She carried most of the conversations with the other students, which none of them seemed to complain about. Jeremy was still completely dumbfounded by the fact that she seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the nick of time, like he had summoned her without realizing it. He was almost afraid to talk to her or even get close for fear that she was just an illusion, that she wasn't real and Jeremy was still tangled in a nonsensical lie.

And then she plopped down in the seat next to him. Her peppy 'hi there' startled him, sucking him out of his own head. Jeremy had been zoning out for the past several minutes and she might as well have teleported next to him.

"Uh, hi." He finally managed to force out. Christine held out a hand. "Christine Canigula, though you probably already knew that. I did ask Mr. Reyes to be introduced and all." There wasn't any bitterness or sarcasm in her voice, just levelheaded contentment and patience. The bizarreness of that almost made Jeremy forget his own name, nice people at the school who weren't Michael Mell didn't exist as far as he knew. Or cared. He wouldn't be mad if he had to spend the rest of his life with him and just him.

Shit, now's not the time for that.

Remembering what you were supposed to do when someone held out their hand when first meeting, Jeremy took the hand she offered and hesitantly shook it. "I'm Jeremy, Jeremy Heere." Good, she wasn't just some hallucination as he feared. She was, in fact, tangible. Which meant she was also sentient. Which meant she had witnessed his very 'subtle' response upon hearing her name.

Please don't bring it up, please don't bring it up...

"Nice to meet you, Jeremy. Are you ok? All dried up and everything?"

She brought it up.

"Y-yeah, I'm... I'm good now." Jeremy sheepishly replied. His 'reaction' had since been cleaned up from his chair and... Him. It could've been worse, he could've demonstrated an actual spit take. He also could've choked and started coughing, bringing even more attention to himself and confusing everyone (including Christine) as to why her introduction garnered such a response.

"Glad to hear it," she said, adjusting the collar of her denim jacket. "It's also great to see just how many people decided to sign up for the after school play."

"If you ask me, it's too many." Jeremy tried to add a bit of humor to his response, not wanting to make his already weird first impression worse by offending her. She wasn't offended. Not in the slightest.

"Oh I totally understand that! Sometimes smaller, more intimate groups can be better. You get to take a longer amount of time getting to know a few people rather than a few minutes to get to know a lot." Christine spoke with her hands quite a bit, hence the animation of her speaking to Mr. Reyes earlier. Jeremy recognized her as that very same student, with her previously mentioned jacket and black, knee-length dress with a sort of white grid pattern.

"Yeah, guess we can't all be social butterflies." Jeremy replied. Butterflies, right. Those graceful things that would silently float around without a care. Those things that would fill up in his stomach whenever he was around Michael, and would make him feel as though he would float away.

Oh my God, Jeremy, stop that!

"But I-I guess that's part of why I decided to sign up? To get better at that kind of thing? I mean, also because I wanted to, obviously." He added on.

"Yeah? How long have you been into theater?" Christine asked with genuine curiosity in her voice. Jeremy rubbed the back of his neck. "Um... Not- not too long, you?" Yes, please, get her to talk about herself.

She let out a giggle. "Ooh, pretty much my whole life. It was always my favorite thing growing up and it still is! I mean obviously, or else I wouldn't be here!" She seemed so giddy and purely delighted to be where she was. Sort of like Michael whenever he and Jeremy would play games like Apocalypse of the Damned, or whenever they were getting stoned, or just Jeremy whenever he was WITH Michael.

Jeremy, NO.

Jeremy used the smile that he didn't know spread across his face to what he hoped was his advantage. "Then you must be having the time of your life, huh?"

If Christine's face was like a desk lamp before, then it was lit up like the sun now. "Jeremy, you have NO idea!" She was right, he didn't. He had no idea what he was in for. It was like a light switch was flipped that made Christine go from about a 10 to a 10,000. "Whenever I'm on stage, everything just feels so right! And I get so depressed when it's all over. I mean! Not as in like 'kill yourself' depressed, I'm not into self-harm! I swear!" She slid her sleeve down in a haste. "See? Check my arm!" Sure enough, no cuts. Not that Jeremy expected any, he'd known Christine for all of a few minutes and she didn't seem like the kind of person to do that kind of thing anyway.

"I just use the term to emphasize my passion for it." Hyper. Hyper and hyperbolic were the words Jeremy was starting to attach to Christine. "Are you passionate a lot?" He asked.

She shrugged. "Suppose you can say I am. Just a lot of big feelings about most everything. But just-!" Christine looked like she was about to burst. Until she settled whatever was building up inside her with one statement. "I LOVE play rehearsal."

Jeremy let her gush for a few minutes, which might've only been about 3 but felt more like 30. Until play rehearsal actually started, much to Christine's obvious excitement and pure joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anybody have a map? ANYONE HAPPEN TO KNOW HOW THE HELL TO DO THIS?? This may be the point where chapters become slightly less frequent. Or maybe not. I DON'T KNOW. PSYCHIC JEREMY IS NO LONGER HEERE.


	5. Jeremy and Rich in the Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why didn't Jeremy just go home?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random Trivia: I wrote this while eating chocolate Oreos.

That was pretty heinous. Not the show he would be performing in. Jeremy did like the idea of it taking place in the zombie apocalypse, Shakespeare with a twist didn't seem too bad. He could be down for that, he played so many zombie games anyway that the prompt of A Midsummer Night's Dream (or A Midsummer's Nightmare as he wished the show would be called) seemed right up his ally. No, that wasn't the problem. The problem was that the popular kids just had to go and crash play rehearsal. Specifically Jake, Sir I'm-doing-every-extracurricular-in-the-school-and-that-makes-me-sooo-cool. Jake Dillinger never gave Jeremy any real grief though, not like Rich.

Oh yeah, Rich. BOYF was still written on his backpack thanks to him. He really should wash that off, shouldn't he? He wouldn't be able to make it home without people laughing at the incomplete word, it wouldn't have mattered whether he was walking or riding a bus. People would see it, and chances were that they knew or would at least find out that Michael was the bearer of the other half. Well I guess that's why he's in the bathroom, to delete the four letters and save himself the embarrassment.

"I told you not to wash that off." A cocky voice said. Shit, Jeremy didn't even hear Rich come in. He pretended that his backpack was on the edge of the sink because he was putting something away, also trying to give the illusion that 'Huh? What? Washing what off? Me? Psh, no!' With vague stuttering.

"I'm talking to you, Tall Ass!" He winced at the raised voice in the echoey confines of the bathroom. Right, Jeremy was Tall Ass to Rich. "Why do you call me that? I'm not even that tall." Jeremy wanted to add 'You're just really short' but stopped himself. Because yeah, Rich could clobber him if given the chance. And an empty bathroom after school would be the perfect time and place.

Luckily, Rich just settled for taking a jab at him as he arrived at a urinal. "Well you could be if you wewen't hunched ovew and scawed awl the time." The baby talk annoyed Jeremy as he back stepped away from the only other guy in the room. "The only thing more pathetic is the way that you're sneaking off into a stall to get away from me." Rich smacked on the stall door closest to him. "Stalls are for girls. Are you a girl, Jeremy?"

Ok, the fact that Rich was pissing the entire time he was talking to him highly disturbed Jeremy. Disturbed, but also disgusted. "Geez, how can you even talk to me while you're..." There were too many words he could've used, he settled for using none of them. "You know..."

That was probably worse than saying any one of his many vocabulary choices. That made him seem even more awkward and weak than he already knew he was. "Confidence." Rich mused. Oh yeah, he was confident. Confidently missing the urinal. Gross. At least confidence was a thing he had, Jeremy had none. That didn't make what Rich was doing any less gross.

"You might wanna watch the floor, man-" Jeremy started, and Rich gasped almost as if the little bit of advice sucked all the confidence he had out of him. The shorter teen's hand twitched and Jeremy could just about swear that he heard the sound of something booting up. What? There was no other technology in the bathroom other than his phone and Rich's (assuming he did have it) that he knew of.

That was definitely weird beyond words. He'd been at school too long, he just needed to get home after all the stuff that had happened to him that day. "Oookay, I just remembered I don't have to pee after all-" as Jeremy was about to turn and leave, Rich grabbed him by the wrist. Great, he was in for something.

"No, don't move!" There was an unusual hastiness and fear in his voice that Jeremy never heard before, the same fear was in his eyes too. He began to speak with a lisp. "You don't remember me freshman year, do you?" The question threw him off, he never saw Rich at all that year. But for a reason.

"You didn't go here freshman year." The answer was plain and simple, there would be no reason for Jeremy to remember him because he didn't meet him yet. "Y-yeth I did! Thee?! You jutht didn't notithe!" Rich loosened his grip on the taller boy's wrist, so much so that his hand just ended up sliding off of it. "Nobody did."

Jeremy gave him a quizzical look, nobody noticed that Rich went to school here freshman year? Granted, this was news to him, but nobody knew? Really? Rich was an infamous bully since last year, what happened to flip the switch and make him known across the school once 10th grade came around?

Jeremy had no clue what he was getting into. He should have just endured the ridicule of Rich's scribble on his bag.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to cut this down into two chapters cuz this one was already getting fairly long. Also going back to Chapter Two to change a line because I read the show synopsis and am now better informed. Forgive me for being an uncultured swine.


	6. Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's better than drugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this at every opportunity I got in school. I still did my work, shut up. (Don't actually, thank you for reading my cringe.)

Rich started to explain in all too much unwanted detail how much of a pathetic guy he was his freshman year. Way, WAY too much. He got into his sex life, which was unbearable for him to speak so nonchalantly to Jeremy about. At least for Jeremy it was. He didn't need this guy's life story. Where was he even going with all of this? God, why didn't he just go home?

"I was helpless, Jeremy. I was utterly hopeless." He said, starting to get a bit more frantic. "Just stagnant and idle, I was suicidal, man! And then-..."

Jeremy awaited a continuation. There was none.

"Then...?"

He ushered. Rich's hands were grasping his scalp like it was his life source.

"Then- then, then..."

Jeremy couldn't tell if the shorter teen was unsure of himself or if he was trying to give off some kind of dramatic effect. He didn't care. He stayed here and listened to Rich's sob story this long, there needed to be some kind of payoff. He waited longer still.

But Rich seemed to be obsessed with the word at the moment.

"Then, then, then, then, then."

Hurry up, Fibonacci.

"I got a SQUIP."

Did Jeremy hear that right? Did he comprehend that correctly? "You got quick?" Rich was probably hoping for his annoying suspense to be dramatic and impactful and cool, but Jeremy was just confused. "Not quick." He spat, as if the mistake wasn't justified. "A SQUIP."

So squid with a P and not a D. Jesus, that double entendre was horrible.

Jeremy gave a shrug of defeat. "I've just never heard of it before." Whatever it was, it turned Rich from a nobody into... Well, Rich. "Yeah, that's the point." He said. Again, in that 'no shit' tone. "This is some top-secret, can't-even-look-it-up-on-the-Internet shit." That was hard to believe. Couldn't you find any and everything on the Internet? Rich continued on in a much lower tone, almost as if someone else was listening to them.

"It's from Japan."

"But what is-" Rich shushed Jeremy before he could finish his question. Likely because he was in the process of answering it, with choreographed hand movements and everything. "It's a grey, oblong pill, quantum nanotechnology CPU." Jeremy almost interrupted again to ask what the hell Rich was even saying, but didn't get a chance. "The quantum computer in the pill will travel through your blood until it implants in your brain and it tells you what I do."

His description seemed almost scripted, not like something Rich would spout off to one of his buddies or anyone else on any normal day. Aside from not sounding like anything he would say, it sounded like complete bullshit. "What?! That's not even possible!" Big mistake calling out the bullshit, as Jeremy finds himself in Rich's frighteningly familiar death grip by his shirt collar. "Shut up, Tall Ass!" And then for the first time, he recoils, dropping the taller teen. "Sorry, old habits."

That was definitely weird. "Look, I apologize for treating you like human garbage all the time. I was only doing it because my SQUIP said that I had to. But! Now it's saying you're not such a bad guy. That you might want a SQUIP of your own?" The last sentence was phrased as a question.

Ok, let's get this straight. So this 'SQUIP', whatever it was, had been telling Rich to torment Jeremy for the better half of his high school years. But now it was telling him not to because maybe he might want his own SQUIP. This was hard to believe, yet also unbelievable. Rich just took a pill and his whole life took a 180 in return. And he was also hearing a voice telling him how to go about living his life, isn't that called schizophrenia?

"Of course, if you're not interested..." Rich started, turning to leave the bathroom. "Wait waitwaitwaitwait!" He turned back to Jeremy, and even he had to admit he sounded kinda hysterical asking Rich to stay. But despite how crazy his story sounded, it almost seemed possible. But this SQUIP thing, what's the deal? "So... It's like... Drugs?" Jeremy almost whispered, hardly knowing what he wanted to ask. There was too much ambiguity to this seemingly life changing pill, though he couldn't say he wasn't the least bit curious.

Rich rolled his eyes in mock offense. "It's better than drugs, Jeremy. IT'S FROM JAPAN!" He wailed, causing Jeremy to wince and bring a hand to his head. "OKAY. THAnks for the migraine!" The tiny room echoed with Rich's 'enthusiasm' for lack of a better word, piercing the taller boy's eardrums and pounding against the sides of his skull. 

"It's a grey, oblong pill-"

"Yeah yeah yeah, I know! I don't need to hear that again! Just-!" Did he really want to go down this rabbit hole? Was this just some way for Rich to ridicule him? Was he actually considering this SQUIP thing? Could it help him like it helped Rich? Too many questions, no way to get them all across. But.

"What else can it really do?"

He couldn't deny he was more than interested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it just kinda seems like I'm writing the musical in fanfic form, but I PROMISE it will get more interesting and more original! Hopefully in the next chapter!


	7. Two-Player Ga(y)me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boys will be gay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random Trivia: I wrote this whole wearing a cat onesie.

Apocalypse of the Damned, Level 9: The Cafetorium. Nevermind the fact that he and Michael had been stuck on the level all day, Jeremy was just glad he could finally kick back after that roller coaster of a day at school. With his favorite person, no less. They were both very avid gamers, especially in the more retro and old-school field. If people ever addressed this, they would justify that being born in 1999 did technically make them '90s kids. Even though that wasn't particularly stupendous or explain away their love of gaming consoles from the even earlier '90s that '80s kids would play on. It was stupid, but no one ever brought it up with them, so the two would never have to throw half-assed excuses at them. But that was mostly because no one ever talked to them unless they were getting picked on.

And sure, they would still play on more recent consoles and check out new games on Steam on a semi-regular basis, but there really was nothing like the classics.

But now, it was a snack break. A much needed one. A good couple of hours in a beanbag and a game controller in your hands will only help you so much if you forgot to eat or drink anything. So the kitchen was raided for its chips and soda and any other junk that the two could find.

As it turns out, there was more than they thought. They didn't even need to take a detour to 7-Eleven or anything, they were practically prepared for the zombie apocalypse. Assuming all you needed for the zombie apocalypse was sugary drinks and various cheese flavored chips. So they survived in kitchen for a bit, discussing other possible strategies to beat the level, all the while eating junk food.

"Yo Jer, catch!" Jeremy turned his head to Michael, and before he could process what exactly he was catching, a Cheeto Puff was sailing directly at him. But just as quickly as it was defying gravity, it was between his teeth. He caught it! Accidentally! Surprised with himself, he put his arms up in victory and received a cheer from the bearer of puffed, cheesy corn snacks. "He's the best like no one ever was! The one, the only! Jeremiah Heere!" Michael mimicked airhorns and The Best Like No One Ever Was couldn't help but laugh as he attempted not to spew crumbs onto himself. "You're stupid." He said with an airy crunch of his victory reward.

Michael shrugged knowingly and slid into the table stool next to Jeremy with his Cheetos and newly retrieved soda can. "Guess that's why we're friends, huh? Cuz we're the only ones that can handle each other's idiocy."

"That and we're hipster losers that no one else cares to even be in the un-ironic or un-mocking presence of." Michael waved off his friend's comment, however true it was. True in the sense that that was how people saw them, though 'hipster' hardly seemed like the right word. 'Geek' maybe, but not hipster. "Really, Michael, we're the butt of all jokes." Jeremy presented a hand to his and Michael's couch potato backpacks with a flourish, which were conveniently in the right position to read their intended message. "Exhibit A."

The dark-skinned teen opened his Pepsi can, which gave a crack and a hiss of carbonation and calories to come. "C'mon, man, it could be worse." He popped a Cheeto into his mouth and chased it down with his soda. (Gross?) "This isn't even the first time this has happened, Michael, remember NOH OMO?" Rich had a knack for writing things on their backpacks. While it didn't happen often enough to be a normal thing, the fact that a label had been attached to the pair via their book bags more than once was enough to be mildly annoying.

"I meant that we could be coming home with black noses and bloody eyes on the norm. We're not, so it's not a huge deal as far as I'm concerned." Michael always spoke in such a carefree way, which was only amplified whenever he was high. (Ironic wording, I know.) There was a sort of childishness to him, a certain energy that was always there. High enthusiasm for the things he liked and the idea of sharing them with Jeremy. Hell, he couldn't even remember a time when Michael didn't seem happy to see him. The same could be said for himself, the guy could make any day go from horrid to pretty good just by being there. Even better if they spent any amount of the day talking about anything at all. Michael was Jeremy's energy source, he was what started him up and kept him going throughout the day. Even if he felt like he didn't equate to anything at all, he would be there to pick him up and make him forget about his inevitable death. Michael just made everything...

Better.

"Besides, I'd much rather have vandalism hanging off my shoulders than something like a cast on my arm." Michael added, pointing his can at the paler teen. Jeremy nodded in agreement, he couldn't say that he preferred physical abuse over stifled laughter in the hallway. He wasn't even entirely mad at the lettering, just sort of at a loss. Part of him wanted to scrub the marker off with bleach and hide in his room for a couple months, hoping that Michael would do the same and all parties present would forget about it, including those who had seen the message. But the other part wanted to keep it on, whether it was for the irony or for the hope that it would actually be an accurate label to address he and his friend as one day.

It would probably be for the irony, no way would Michael see it as anything else. Doing things out of such was his kind of thing. As a joke, not meant to be taken seriously. That would likely have to be how they wore the defaced bags until they got a chance to wash them. If they could even do as much without answering to Rich. Yeah, letting the 'BOYF RIENDS' stay was probably the better option. On the topic of Rich...

"Soooo, about the SQUIP..." Jeremy tried to slide in without it seeming forced. Apparently it wasn't. Michael shook his head. "Think he's scamming you, dude. A 600 dollar tic tac that whispers secrets from the void to you doesn't sound like anything more than some kind of RPG familiar or pet." As Jeremy struggled to keep a straight face at the thought of such a thing, he rebutted. "But what if it's more than that? What if it really is all that it's cracked up to be? I mean, Rich is kinda all the proof we have, but it's pretty compelling."

Michael seemed troubled. Like he wanted to continue brushing off the SQUIP like it was nothing, but couldn't think of any way to do so. His eyes fixed on a point on the wall parallel to himself and Jeremy. "I mean..." He started, almost unwillingly. "If it is, if it really IS that much of a game changer, and you do take this pill... What then?" He was visibly uneasy, which worried Jeremy to no end. "What do you mean?"

"Like..." He looked up at the ceiling, as if the words he were looking for were written there and he was secretly trying to find the answer. He dropped his hands on the counter in defeat, eyes returning to Jeremy's. "Will you even need me when you're cool and loved by the whole school? When you, like, get with Christine or whatever and everyone stops treating you like trash?" That hadn't even crossed Jeremy's mind, he couldn't imagine his life changing so much that Michael wouldn't even be a part of it. The thought alone made him want to curl up cry.

"What? Dude, I would never abandon you like that." He scooted his stool closer his friend's, debating how much physical contact to make, if any. How could Michael think that he meant that little to Jeremy? "You know you've kept me sane throughout the years, and you... helped me through some tough shit. I could never, ever just forget you or- or leave you behind or anything like that." Jeremy felt his face flush as he finally decides to put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "You're like... My favorite person, Michael." He put as much care and sincerity as he could into the words. He needed to know that Jeremy truly cared for him, up to a certain extent at least.

Michael seemed to turn pink himself, which wasn't nearly as noticeable as with Jeremy's pale as all hell complexion. A fond smile crept across his face though. "Is it really true?" He leaned into Jeremy in an obvious tease, dragging his friend's exact words out. "I'm your favowite pewson?" Jeremy leaned away in a fluster with a dismissive laugh. "Not when you say it like that!" Michael laughed in return, with any remaining doubt that he had appearing to melt away. But Jeremy wanted to be sure. Self-deprecation was his job, not Michael's.

"Of course," he began. "If I were to leave my brother behind, life would be so, SO lame!" Catching on, the red sweatshirt clad teen joined in unison. "Cuz it's an effed up world but it's a two-player game!" That definitely helped. Not only Michael, but Jeremy too. Both of them saying it made it seem more official, that they would stick together no matter what. They would deal with whatever shit necessary. They had no reason to believe that the opposite was true.

"Speaking of games, you ready to get back to ours?" Michael nodded, grabbing his cheeto bag and soda can. "Let's show this damned apocalypse who's boss!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy second day of Hanukkah even though I personally don't celebrate it. But Jeremy's Jewish so he does. I might post a chapter everyday of Hanukkah as a goal for his sake. Or I might fail tomorrow. WHO KNOWS????


	8. Take a Stab at Being More Chill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brief Fall Out Boy and Nirvana. Not even entirely real lyrics. Michael won't admit he doesn't want Jeremy to get the SQUIP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wrote this after my choir concert cuz that was the only time I had TIME to write. (Aka probably spelling errors unless I've fixed them by now.)

Michael and Jeremy were in the former's PT Cruiser on their way to the mall, partially to see if this problem solving pill was legit. But mostly because screw it, why the hell not. That was usually their reason for doing things. And they hadn't died yet, so they felt no real need to change their philosophy or thought process. Maybe Jeremy would hesitate at the idea of something on occasion, but would ultimately give in with little to no regrets. Michael would always crack peer pressure down onto him, which he didn't mind most of the time. This time, however, Jeremy was doing the stupid thing with no real persuasion from his friend.

In fact, Michael seemed more against the SQUIP if anything. Maybe he wasn't out right saying it, but he didn't appear to be mentally (or physically) jumping up and down at the idea either. This was probably the first time he wasn't directly encouraging Jeremy to do something. Well, there was the school play thing, but he clarified earlier that day that he had no problem with his friend signing up. Again, fully supporting Jeremy and telling him to chase his dreams... Very dramatically. Honestly, if he didn't know better, Jeremy would've said that Michael was a theater geek. That actually wouldn't be surprising, considering his high energy levels, tendencies to over exaggerate, and practically endless supply of fun loving spunk. And the fact that they were both singing along to the radio with misheard or simply made up lyrics, featuring the infamously misunderstood Smells Like Teen Spirit by Nirvana.

"HERE WE ARE NOW, IN CONTAINERS! AVOCADO, A POTATO! YEAH!"

Not for long though. Click. New station. Oh man. If the previous song was known for being misheard, almost this entire band's collection was more than guilty. And they had caught them right at the beginning of their song.

"Am I more than you bargained for yet?" Michael began.

Sugar, We're Goin Down.

"Jesus, man, I know the words to this! This is gonna be infuriating." Jeremy said over the tune with faked dread. He was actually really curious as to what Michael heard from the Fall Out Boy song, or if he would even be singing words for any amount of time. He kinda expected to mostly hear gibberish from his friend, correcting him along the way in a really annoying fashion.

"Lie in the grass, next to the mausoleum." A grin cut across the driver's face. "I'm just a-nudgin' your bagels but you're just a line in a song!" The car filled with the sound of Jeremy's surprised laughter. "Nevermind! I like your words better!"  
"Figured you would, Jeremy!" But Michael had no other real words for the rest of the verse. So as predicted, he made the general sound of coherent English speech without actually saying anything, even through the beginning of the chorus. When he finally did cut back in, the results were nothing short of amazing.

"I know you've got cornflakes cookin' in pudding!" Again, Jeremy wished those were the real words in the form of contagious laughter. "That sounds delicious! Ya think we can get that at like, Hotdog on a Stick or something?" Michael gave a shoulder shrug. "Probably! Hey that reminds me, I'll hafta snag you something for the holiday season while we're in there." Confusion dotted Jeremy's face. "Seriously?" He laughed. "That's not for another like, 3 months. Not even, just under 4."

Michael pushed on his passenger's shoulder. "Obviously it'll wait until after your thing! Where'd you say the guy would be again? By the Payless?" He asked, turning into the mall parking lot.

"That's what Rich said." Jeremy answered. "And you're sure he's a reliable source of information?" The driver teased. "It's not like I can double check or anything, apparently you can't even find this stuff on the Internet." He tried, nothing came up when searching 'squip' except for a 'did you mean squid' message and multiple results for such.

"Damn, ok then. Still sounds scammy to me." Michael said in a half sarcastic, half serious way. "I know it does." His friend admitted. "But ya'know, I still kinda like to think it might be worth a shot." A complete turn around reputation-wise seemed like a hell of a good way to make life that little bit less sucky. Of course Jeremy still had Michael to help him out, but that could only get him so far. He didn't see himself being able to date him like he had a hard time admitting he would like, and Christine was still somewhat fresh on his mind. Would he go as far as to say that he liked her 'like that'? No, obviously not, he'd known her for less than a day, and love at first sight wasn't a thing as far as he was aware. Had he immediately fallen for Michael though? Eh, Jeremy knew him too long to come up with an accurate answer. But it hardly mattered, he was thinking about trying his hand at Christine anyway.

God, that sounds horrible out of context. No actually, it sounds horrible anyway.

Regardless, maybe the SQUIP could help him out and get him on romantic terms with her.

Another shrug from Michael. "Then I guess there's no stopping you from getting this thing. Whatever you think will help you, dude." He still didn't say it in the most assuring way, more dull than anything else. But at least he was kind of on board with the SQUIP, which was what Jeremy was hoping for.

Why would he do something if Michael wasn't encouraging him to do it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shh, it's not the next day until I go to sleep. Who cares that this has been posted after midnight- I mean what?


	9. Is This Surviving?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time SQUIP to the skip.  
> ...  
> Wait...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the SQUIP an it? I don't know, that's just what I'm calling it for now.

5:50 AM. The alarm was silenced as quickly as it sounded. Jeremy did not want to get up in the slightest. He felt particularly tired and the bed felt particularly nice, so this was better for everyone. It should be illegal to have to wake up before 7, why does school have to deprive everyone of sleep? Maybe school itself didn't start until almost 8:00, but factoring in psyching yourself into getting up, getting ready and commuting to the building took a lot of time. And depending on each individual student's morning routines, they would have to get up earlier and earlier.

Morning routines.

Jeremy's still half closed eyes meandered to his desk and hitched onto the computer, causing his mouth to curve slightly upward. Maybe that could help.

So he got himself up after a moment of struggle and sat in front of the computer, starting it up. He was already in a better mood, seeing that it was working much faster than it previously had. That wouldn't stop Jeremy from trying to make things go that little bit faster. Not out of anticipation and frustration like last time, but out of anticipation and motivation.

"C-c-c-c'mon, c-c-c-c'mon! Go-"

ZAP!

"Ow!"

Pain struck through Jeremy's skull lightning fast and he fell out of his chair onto the ground.

"What have we said about masturbation?" The SQUIP tutted.

Jeremy shot up with a hand to his forehead and fluster in his words. "I was just gonna- check my email!"

"You can't lie to me, Jeremy, I'm inside your brain." It reminded.

Oh yeah, why had he even tried? Force of habit? Was it a habit? He didn't think it was, he didn't think he lied often. It was the subject matter, wasn't it?

"Now, we're going to devise a system," the super computer continued. "I tally every time you think about sex, and that is how many push-ups you do. If this morning is an indicative sample, you'll have pecs in no time." It sounded a bit too proud saying that. This made Jeremy deflate with a slight whine as he sat back down onto his bed. "Bonus curl-ups will be added if the thoughts are attached to a certain person of interest, who will go unnamed for your sake."

Jeremy cocked his head at the visual manifestation of the SQUIP in front of him. But he didn't want to do more exercise than he would apparently be doing, so he chose not to try and work out on his own or ask who Fake Keanu Reeves was talking about.

Geez, having a SQUIP was weird. It wasn't always just some disembodied voice he would hear in the back of his head like he initially thought. It was that at times, but it had an actual appearance at some points. And when it did show up, it was practically the same as talking to a human, minus the more technological aspects of how it walked and just how it was in general. There was a lot that Jeremy learned about the SQUIP in the short amount of time that he had it, and he figured that Michael would want to hear all about it.

ZAP!

"OW! Son of a BITCH!" Jeremy jolted into a pillow to muffle his yell and the immense pain that lasted for a few seconds longer than the original zap had.

"Yes you are, Jeremy, yes you are." The SQUIP said matter-of-factly in mild disappointment. He hadn't even lasted a minute.

The boy rose his head from his pillow at the subtle insult in surprise, but the now lessened, though still lingering pain of the shock continued to choke him. He felt as though he should've retorted or defended himself, but honestly couldn't see a reason to. For his own reasons, but especially not after how the SQUIP demonstrated its lack of hesitation to punish him for his missteps. Jeremy gave a small shake of his head. "I'm just gonna not comment on that..." He wheezed.

"Congratulations, that is the first good decision you have made today. Let's not break your streak now, Jeremy."

There was no doubt that the SQUIP would be changing Jeremy's life for what he assumed was the better, but would it be worth it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh thank you for getting this over 400 hits?? It was only at like 370-something this morning? And then? It jumped up?? For real though, thank you.


	10. This Is Surviving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The better half of More Than Survive (Reprise) somewhat elaborated on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame my friend for keeping me away from writing this with roleplay (you know who you are.)

This was different. Different good. Other days when Jeremy was just concerned with not being noticed and just getting by, people weren't being assholes to him today. He actually had a clue on what to do now that the SQUIP was there to tell him what he SHOULD do, what he should say, where he should sit in class and on the bus, he could honestly get used to this. He couldn't complain about this.

Jeremy learned his lesson after what happened at the mall when he first got it. He was able to see how the SQUIP really did know what was best, especially when he hadn't listened to it when Brooke and Chloe offered him a ride home. He didn't entirely know how it knew that Michael would leave the mall without him, (seriously, Michael, what the hell?) but he knew now not to neglect or ignore the SQUIP when it told him to do something.

And Jeremy listened to every piece of advise it gave for the rest of the day: say this to the teacher so that she won't bug you about this, say that about the education system to get the class to laugh and have the due date of that paper pushed back, converse with others about this to get them to like you, stuff like that. Rich even treated him more like a friend than a target since his and Jeremy's SQUIPs had been linked (or however that worked), it was actually a pretty good day overall.

Although if he ever hesitated on something, a shock would push him to comply if need be. More of a quick jolt or jumpscare than the shocks he had experienced early that morning, but likely because his pain couldn't be too obvious in a public or social situation. When he was in his bedroom talking to himself, the SQUIP could be a bit more generous with its electricity.

But Jeremy had made it through the day with little difficulty, and it felt amazing. He still didn't feel like he was one to make an impact on the world or be one of the popular kids, but he couldn't complain. Being positively tolerated was better than being a nobody or being picked on or ridiculed. Having his presence be accepted and not just dealt with for the sake of a passing grade on a science lab felt pretty damn good.

He walked through the door to drama practice, ready to see Christine. The fact that the SQUIP had helped Jeremy as much as it did started to get him hopeful for how it could help him get closer to her. He still didn't want to get his expectations up too high, but the extremely not shittiness of the day put him in a damn good mood and mindset.

All in all, a not too heinous day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really short chapter because I couldn't even START writing until close to midnight. I tried, this is a bleh chapter. It's 1 AM. I'm sleeping.


	11. Who's The Guy That She's Kinda Into?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christine is conflicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this late on a school night. I'm gonna be dead. I do this cuz I care.

Christine did say that she had a touch of ADD, but she was a different kind of distracted today. It wasn't the normal "hey look, something shiny" kind of distracted, but rather the "I'm conflicted, something is on my mind" kind of distracted. The kind that Jeremy knew all too well... Which he didn't think about out loud for fear of getting electrocuted by the SQUIP.

There was some down time for him and Christine while Mr. Reyes worked with other students on a scene that neither of them were in. And apparently the students were either really stubborn or really, really dense. It was honestly kinda painful to watch. But this was working in Jeremy's favor, according to the voice in his head at least.

"Go sit next to her and greet her, but don't look or sound too enthused, act like she is just a way to pass the time." The SQUIP instructed. Jeremy swiftly walked across the room to where Christine was sitting, taking the seat next to her and slumping back in his chair a bit. "Hey." He said, trying for boredom. Christine turned to him in a slight startle. "Oh... Hey, Jeremy." She said upon seeing the boy, with what might've been sadness in her voice.

"Ask how she's doing."  
"You doing ok over here? You seem a little off." Christine shifted in her seat a bit. "Yeah, I'm fine, just... Thinking." She looked at her feet, rubbing her hands. "About?" Jeremy pried. He actually was quite bored and if he was going to talk to anyone, it might as well be Christine. The girl in question lifted a hand in front of her and moved it back and forth a bit. "Kind of a lot of things. Well one thing really, but, it feels like a lot of things." And now we're back to talking with both hands. "Ok not really so much things or A thing as much as it is..." She eyed the ceiling and motioned as if she were trying to catch something about to fall from it. "People. Or a person. A specific person. One that. Maybe you don't know that well." Jeremy could feel the oncoming rant, and he figured he ought to just let it happen. He presented a hand, giving her permission to continue.

Christine clapped her own hands together and let out a breath, turning her body to face Jeremy. "Say there's this person you pass in the hall everyday. And from what you know about him, you get used to thinking about him in a certain way. But then something just changes," she snapped her fingers. "And he changes. Just like that, and what little you thought you knew about him is halfway out the window. Not completely gone, but just sort of on the outside, looking in." Christine pivoted away from Jeremy again, it was clear she couldn't sit still.

She sort of laughed on some of the words she started saying. "And because of this, he goes from a guy that you'd never be into into a guy that you'd- ...KINDA be into! And you start thinking to yourself if he's worth it." She turned back to the boy. "Is he worth it, Jeremy?"

While he didn't let it show on his face, his brain was buzzing. 'Is she talking about me?!' He thought. "Of course she is, I've been activating your pheromones." The SQUIP responded. "Keep it up." Jeremy sat up a bit to show that he was more engaged in Christine's guy crisis, as it could be called. "Well, maybe. Is there anything else to him?"

Christine waved her hands around some more. "He's not someone that I really know that well, which is understandable seeing as how I haven't been here too long, BUT. I see him everyday and I feel like I SHOULD know him better." She pivoted again, halfway between Jeremy and halfway in front of herself. "I thought that I had him pegged despite it, but now he's gone from someone I wouldn't imagine myself with to someone... I could." Back to Jeremy. "Is he worth it?" She repeated.

"Absolutely." Jeremy replied, practically in unison with the SQUIP. Christine gave a semi dry laugh and dropped her once flying hands to her lap. "Honestly, why am I telling this to you?" He didn't really know himself, so there was no answer he could've given on his own.

On his own.

"Put it on her, they're her words after all." Jeremy wasn't on his own. He gave a shrug. "Guess there's a part of you that wants to?" Christine lent a small smile. "Who knew?" She sat back in her seat. "I guess a part of me likes to talk to you. And hang with you. Here at play rehearsal." Jeremy nodded slightly with a small smile. But he had nearly forgotten that he was in fact at play rehearsal, meaning that he and Christine couldn't sit and talk forever. Mr. Reyes had either given up on the students or worked out something simpler for them, since he called for everyone in the next scene to gather. This included Christine.

She sighed. "I know that it's weird, but it's totally true. And..." She looked to the rest of the cast and back at Jeremy, almost checking if they could hear them or not. She lowered her voice anyway. "The guy that I'd kinda be into..." Jeremy leaned in a little closer, to hear better and so that the girl didn't have to risk being heard if that was what she was afraid of. Or even if it was for dramatic effect. "Is..." Probably dramatic effect, but it was definitely working. Even though he was convinced with the help of the SQUIP that Christine did really like him, he still anticipated that words to come out of her mouth, which curved up in a smile.

"Jake."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy, Dear Evan Hansen reference for those that caught it. Thank you for 500 hits, I am a happy bean. A sleepy bean, but a happy bean.


	12. Upgrade To Be the Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Panicked Jeremy is Heere. VERY panicked. You don't even know. (Yet.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A long, slow burn of a chapter.  
> The SQUIP knows what Jeremy wants just as much as he does. Maybe even more.  
> Blood warning.

Jeremy's brain fired thoughts every which way and turned completely off at the same time. Before he could respond, Christine hopped up out of her seat cheerfully. "Well, see ya! Thanks for listening, Jeremy!" She twirled around and joined the other students in her scene. Jeremy watched dumbly as she scampered away in bliss and ignorance to his brain fart/aneurysm.

Christine likes Jake? JAKE? Jake Every Extracurricular Dillinger?! That Jake?! Jeremy was flipping shit, he's not the guy that Christine would kinda be into. And the SQUIP told him he was, why did it lie? Surely it didn't just not know or miscalculate or whatever, it would know, wouldn't it? Unless even it was against Jeremy and was just humoring him this whole time. Of course. He was a lost cause, why did he think anything could fix him? But it seemed to be working in his favor so well, why now did it decide that it wanted to mislead him? Why now was it pulling on his dick? Why? WHY?

"Excuse yourself, Jeremy."

He had no time to think. He couldn't think. Not if he wanted to. He just needed to get somewhere else where he could. Anywhere else. "Please excuse me." Jeremy blurted. He shot out of his seat and booked it to the door, being slowed only by the metal bar he had to use all his weight to push onto to unlatch his much needed escape. He didn't even know if Mr. Reyes saw or heard him, or even cared that he had just ran out the door as if he just stared down a bull that was seeing red and was about to charge directly at him. He didn't care.

All he could hear was the sound of his shoes squeaking against the floor of the empty hallway and his own rampant running thoughts. He didn't know where he was going, he just needed to go. He didn't think running aimlessly through the hall would be a good idea though. He took a sharp left and stumbled into the boys bathroom, catching himself on a sink. The sudden stop made him realize just how fast he had ran away from the drama room. Once he thought it a good idea to wait for his breath to catch up with the rest of him, he addressed the SQUIP verbally. "What was that about?!" He panted.

The SQUIP took form behind him to his left with arms crossed. "I am sorry, Jeremy, but that girl does not see you as relationship material." Jeremy looked up in the mirror to see the Keanu impersonator reflected back at him. "Yeah, I know. That's why I got you!" He snapped. "And you're sure you want her? People lose interest in other people, you should know this." It continued before Jeremy could interject at the implied reference to his mother. "You don't have to pursue Christine just because of your pitiful lie, there are many other females that would do just as nicely." The SQUIP put a finger to its temple. "I'm accessing footage from the girls volleyball practice, it's very impressive."

Ok, Jeremy couldn't argue with that. But regardless, he was too stubborn to change his mind. "I want Christine." He stated firmly, after turning to face the expressionless SQUIP. They stood staring at each other in silence for a moment. A tense silence. A knowing silence. A silence that was clouded with both of their understanding of what the blue-eyed teen truly felt. "No you don't, Jeremy. And you know it." The SQUIP replied plainly. Jeremy sighed in annoyance and exasperation, rolling his eyes and turning back to the mirror. "You know it and I know it. You want your best friend. And you've wanted him for a long, long time. Don't even try to deny it, Jeremy, the footage I have here containing years of pining doesn't lie." The SQUIP smirked. "Unless, of course, you need a refresher."

"I don't." Jeremy snapped. "I don't need to be reminded of- of what I know can't and won't ever happen. I don't need to think about that, I don't need that. I don't want that." His voice was tight and strained, as if he was about to cry.

"Oh but you do." The SQUIP crooned, stepping closer to the teen, hands behind its back and face cut into with a devilish grin. "You want it more than anything. You've painted a fantasy in your mind of a picture perfect life with a certain person, a person of which you have spent the last twelve years of your existence interacting with. Bonding with, playing games with, smoking and getting high with," The manifestation leaned into the teen's ear, dropping its voice. "A person, a boy, you have been developing feelings for." Jeremy swatted at the SQUIP and walked down the line of sinks to the one on the end, closest to the far wall housing the urinals. "You know I'm right, Jeremy. There are no girls at this school that you have taken any particular liking to, all of your interest has been pinned on one specific guy."

"I've admired girls from afar!" Jeremy argued hastily. "Hardly." The SQUIP laughed. "You've seen them as nothing more than eye candy. You have eyes for one of the opposite gender. To put it into terms you understand, you are gay for your best friend." The conflicted teen spun around. "I am not!"

The SQUIP put up its hands in sarcastic defense. "Oh right, my mistake, you're 'bisexual' for your best friend." It put air quotes around the word 'bisexual' in an over dramatic way. "Do forgive me for not acknowledging the half of your preferences that are very clearly not apparent at the moment. Or ever really, as you fail to admit." Jeremy crossed his arms in a huff and turned his head to the mirror on his left, pouting in frustration. The SQUIP leaned into the wall in the space between two mirrors, passing through it and walking into the boy's line of sight. "You can't hide from your gayness, Jeremy. It is a part of you and you know it, you aren't even mad at it."

"I can want to be." Jeremy choked out, wiping at his eyes to sweep away the tears that threatened to pool up and fall down his face. "You don't want to be though." Cheer crept into the SQUIP's voice. "As I recall, you started writing a song about it." It showed itself putting its hand on the head of Jeremy's reflection, dissipating and taking it over, electric blue lines running down the cheeks in a circuit pattern and eyes glowing a brighter blue than they already were. It replicated his voice and sang. "I wanna be a GAY hero, just wanna stay in the GAY. I'll never be your Rob De Niro, for me GAY Joe Pesci is fine. So I follow my own rules and I use them as my GAY to stay GAY. I don't wanna be special, no no, I just wanna survive!" Each time it said gay, the word sounded out of place, as if it were an audio clip being edited into the sentences. The real Jeremy furrowed his brow. "Those aren't the words!" The reflection of Jeremy raised an eyebrow in return with a smirk. "They might as well be." It mused, still sounding like the very teen it was impersonating. The real teen in question flailed his arms in front of him. "Look, if you're really in my brain and know me so well, then you should know that I got you so that I didn't have to worry about that- that side of me! So that I didn't have to worry about liking Michael and that I could have Christine! I-I shouldn't have to explain this to you if you can, like, read my thoughts and stuff, or, whatever." Jeremy backed away from the mirror, arms folding across his chest again as he continued his efforts to not look at the super computer testing him.

As the SQUIP was no longer visible to its host in the mirror, it stepped back out into the bathroom via the wall it initially entered through. "I am aware that you took me with the intentions of acquiring Christine, I am simply trying to remind you that she is not who you really want." It walked past Jeremy to stand between him and the stalls behind him. "Besides, Jeremy, becoming the kind of person that can impress her would take far more time and effort than if-"

"I don't care." Jeremy shot back.

The SQUIP's brows knitted together. "It would be easier and far more appealing to you if you would come to your senses and-"

"Nope."

"If Christine wasn't in the picture-"

"Not listening."

"Jeremy-"

"Nuh-uh."

"If it were Michael-"

"Caaan't hear you."

"Jeremy, if you would listen to me for 17.735 seconds-"

"La la la, I can't hear you, I'm not listening."

Jeremy tightly shut his eyes and put his hands over his ears, turning on his heel back toward the mirror. When he heard the muffled sound of the SQUIP trying to speak to him, he la'd the Mario theme song as loudly and as off-key as he could. Even when he was met with silence as far as he could hear, he kept going until he reached a bar that he could appropriately end on. He finished and waited for a moment, expecting to hear the SQUIP try to pick up where it left off. When he didn't hear as much, he opened his eyes and uncovered his ears, thinking that it had retreated to the back of his mind. He turned to where it was standing and was met with its bored expression with disappointment around the edges. Very, very real disappointment. "Are you done?" It asked after a beat. "Are you?" Jeremy huffed back. The SQUIP said nothing, but rather started at Jeremy for a moment, almost expectantly. When he simply stared back with finality, it readjusted its shirt collar. "Very well then. I will help you into a relationship with Christine." Jeremy gave a sigh of relief and melting frustration. "Thank you. So, how can I get her?"

"You can't."

"What?!"

"Yet." The SQUIP held up a finger, in a way that seemed to imply an oncoming lecture. "Like I said, becoming someone that she would find appealing enough to be in a relationship with will take more than simply working out a few bugs. You need to reboot your reputation, super charge your social standing, you need to upgrade." Jeremy squinted at the SQUIP. "Huh??"

It held out its arms in a shrugging fashion in response. "Still think it'll be worth it? Are you still willing to go down this path and go through with this plan? Still wanna put in the time and effort. Or are you having second thoughts?" The SQUIP snapped its fingers with an evil smirk.

Memories crashed down on Jeremy like a huge wave, playing scenes from his life as a timeline of moments spent with Michael like a movie. Not through his own eyes however, but as an outsider watching over from a short distance away. Their first day of kindergarten when Jeremy accidentally got glue in his hair and the teacher yelled him, making him cry, so Michael squeezed paste onto himself so that he would also get in trouble. Later that same year when Michael broke his nose and Jeremy legitimately thought he was going to die, so they had a sleepover after he got patched up at the hospital and stayed up late watching movies. In fourth grade on Michael's tenth birthday when they went to the animal shelter to get a cat, and he insisted on getting the only one that didn't scratch Jeremy out of twenty or so cats, practically screaming out 'HE LICKED YOUR FACE! WE HAVE TO KEEP HIM!' To the rest of the room. Seventh grade when they beat Halo on Legendary Mode after two and a half straight weeks of playing it and spent the entire rest of the night celebrating, then falling asleep at 4 AM in an awkward-looking mix of spooning and Jeremy being on top of Michael. Freshman year when three 6 foot plus seniors were throwing a bunch of homophobic slurs and shade at Michael, prompting tiny, lanky Jeremy Heere to punch one of them in the face, giving the taller teen a nosebleed and breaking his own middle finger in the process, then timidly coming out as bi to his still shaken up friend after the seniors left. Event after event, memory after memory rushing through his head, bouncing off the sides of his skull, playing out before him. Overwhelming him. Drowning him. All the times at 7-Eleven. All the times at the arcade and smoking dope in the stoner's paradise of a basement. Seeing how many things they could stack on Michael's cat before the feline woke up. Concerts they went to, stoned mall hijinx that they were the source of, summers they spent playing videos games until the sun came up, Jeremy reminiscing on how great the day had been after finally getting to bed, drifting off and highly looking forward to whatever the next one would bring. Scenes upon scenes upon scenes, one after another after another, then overlapping each other, drowning each other out until any and all dialogue became a muddled mess. And Jeremy wishing, begging, pleading for it all to just stop, stop, stop it, please stop, make it stop, stop, STOP IT.

"ENOUGH! JUST STOP ALREADY!"

The sound of shattering glass rang out through the entirety of the bathroom, followed by the sound of shards clattering and breaking a second time against the tile floor and ceramic sink. The first thing Jeremy saw when he opened his eyes was the spider web pattern of a mirror before him and the blood between the fingers and along the sides of his right hand pressed hard against the cracked glass, with his left scrunched tightly into a trembling fist on the wall beside the now useless reflective surface. The crimson fluid slowly followed one of the cracks in the mirror down to the silver faucet like molasses and Jeremy jumped back in shock, almost falling. He hastily flicked his wrist several times, spattering blood droplets and glittering tiny specks of glass that were stuck in his palm into the clean, white sink, no longer white. If he had been thinking, he would've shoved his sleeve up to his elbow and ran his cut hand under the always too cold water of the blood-dotted faucet, cleansing both his hand and the bowl of the sink. Except he wasn't thinking. His hands were shaking and he wasn't thinking. His knees were shaking and he wasn't thinking. He was shaking and he wasn't thinking.

He wasn't thinking.

He ran down the row of sinks as quickly as he could without falling flat on his face, exiting the bathroom in a panic. Running from whatever the hell had just happened. Getting away from the multiplied image of his horror-struck face in the sections of broken glass. He made it pretty far down the hall before stumbling into someone, grabbing onto their shoulders and stepping backwards once to try and regain his balance. Everything was happening so quickly, too quickly for Jeremy to process, especially over his panicked intakes of air.

"Jeremy? Oh my god, I've been looking for you!" Delicate hands were placed onto his back and brushed up and down gently that slowly brought him back into the real world. Geez, he was shaking so damn much. Why was he shaking? Why was he choking back tears? Why was he hyperventilating? Why was his hand warm and wet? He looked up to see who was talking to him and was surprised to see the blonde-locked Brooke. And his own bloody hand clutched tightly around her flowery, magenta scarf. He staggered backward, letting go of the accessory and struggling to push any cohesive thoughts out of his mouth. An apology, a greeting, anything. But he couldn't. He was a shaky, blubbering mess and couldn't do anything about it. Noticing Jeremy's wound with wider eyes, Brooke glanced at the scarf and then back at Jeremy. She immediately began unraveling the garment, seeing the fresh, red stains more clearly.

Apologize, apologize, apologize, you stupid, klutzy idiot.

"Um- Brooke! I didn't- I'm eh- I just-! I didn't mean- to- to your- to your-... Um, uh-..." The boy stuttered, still barely able to breathe.

"Oh no no! It's fine!" She finished removing the thin strip of blood-smeared fabric. "It's not my scarf. It's Madeline's." She whispered on the last sentence, giving a wink. Jeremy couldn't question her as to how she then got it, even if he wanted to, so he instead gripped the wrist of his blood-soaked hand and focused on not letting any of the fluid drip onto himself or the girl in front of him. Brooke hovered a hand over his wound, and drew back slightly when Jeremy flinched. The two made eye contact and real concern was on the blonde's face. She held up the scarf slightly and motioned to his right hand. "May I?" She asked. Jeremy looked down at his injury, then back up at Brooke. Deciding that saying any words wouldn't really do either of them much good, besides wasting time and oxygen that he didn't have, he nodded.

She carefully draped the fabric across the boy's hand, the liquid bleeding through the thin sheet as she wrapped the ends around his palm. The scarf clearly wasn't something you would wear in the winter if you were trying to stay warm, but it was a nice adornment for mid-autumn. It was so ridiculously thin. Luckily, it was long enough and layered enough times to stop showing an obvious amount of blood through. Brooke tied the remainder of the ends into a knot that fit comfortably into Jeremy's palm. "There, that should help." She stated calmly. Surprisingly calmly, especially for someone who was just barreled into by a trembling, wheezing mess of a guy with a hand oozing dark red onto her (or apparently Madeline's) dark pink scarf. "Um, thanks..." That was all Jeremy could manage. He still couldn't think clearly enough make up any kind of excuse. Why he was running through the hall, why his hand was cut, why he was nearly having a panic attack, nothing. Brooke put a hand on his shoulder and met his gaze once more. "Do you wanna go to the nurse's office?" She asked, and his immediate reaction was to quickly nod his head.

"No."

Jeremy shook his head just as quickly, and the girl gave a perplexed look. Why no? Why not? Why wasn't that a good idea? Why shouldn't he go to the nurse after he panic smashed a mirror with his fleshy, squishy hand? What the hell is wrong with wanting to do that? What the hell is wrong with the SQUIP? Did the manufacturers from Japan forget to create the damn thing with common sense? What the hell is this? What the hell is life?

Why the hell is this Jeremy's life right now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok but like who here has seen More Than Survive but Jeremy is gay? That's what the SQUIP's version of the song is referencing. ALSO. The cat thing is inspired by PrinceDew's fic "while my friends were getting high/i was losing my mind" (well ok I sorta copied it, but I'm not a bad person, I'm giving credit. Check out their fic, it good stuff.) ALSO ALSO. Am I the only creep that looks at the kudos to see if I recognize any names from other fics I've read?  
> 8/10/18 Edit: the scene of the SQUIP bombarding Jeremy with memories and making him break the mirror is loosely based on scenes from Jeremy Heere Isn't Gay by sacrebleu0 and R E A C T I V A T E by VirginiaTownsend


	13. Damn, Gotta Get An Upgrade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pining?  
> Can't think of much else to say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey another pretty long chapter! Sorry it took a bit longer, winter break and stuff with family. But here ya go! On New Fear- I mean New Year's Day

"I know what you're thinking, Jeremy, just let it happen."

"Let myself bleed out and ruin a maybe perfectly good scarf in front of Brooke instead of getting properly bandaged up, yeah, that sounds like a great idea." Jeremy thought.

The SQUIP shocked the teen, which was equivalent to that of when you rub your socked feet on the carpet and touch a metal doorknob. He twitched at the zap and prayed it was subtle enough to not be noticed by his... Savior? If she could be called that?

Brooke sucked on her lip and hummed, looking down in a contemplative way. "Okay..." She said, mostly as a way to avoid any sort of silence. An idea then popped into her mind, which showed very obviously on her face. "Hey, you don't have to be alone right now. Uh, however you hurt yourself probably still has you a little shaken up, huh?" She phrased as both a statement and a question simultaneously. Jeremy slowly nodded, that sure as hell wasn't a lie. "Yeah, so, I can stay with you until you feel alright again." The girl continued, seeming less sure of herself. "If... You want?"

How weird. Brooke was volunteering to hang with Jeremy for an undetermined amount of time, since he had no idea when 'alright' would be a thing. While his breathing had since been normalized, he wasn't exactly still again, as demonstrated by his wobbly knees. But maybe they were that way for a different reason. Jeremy did his best to push the thought away.

The SQUIP had advised him to go along with this, and he had no real reason to not stay with Brooke. It wasn't exactly like he had anything better to do, other than, you know, go to the nurse. But again, the damn floppy disk says no to the obvious, for not very obvious reasons.

Once Jeremy realized he had been staring at Brooke in dumb silence for a socially unacceptable amount of time (as evident by how much more uneasy she looked), he gave her an answer with a gloriously minimal amount of stuttering. "That uh, sounds good, yeah." The unease melted off Brooke's face and she took his uninjured hand in her own, making his face heat up. "Here, I know a really nice place to stay." She told the boy as she guided him through the hall.

There weren't many students to be seen, but there were a few strewn here and there. Jeremy avoided any accidental eye contact by focusing his attention on the back of Brooke's head with her bouncing blonde hair and on the walls as well. A poster showed that the name of the play he and his leader were performing in had actually changed slightly from what Shakespeare had once called it.

'A Midsummer's Nightmare About Zombies'

Eh, close enough to Jeremy's title, he'd take it. He didn't speak to Brooke while she lead him through the school, but it wasn't a painfully awkward silence, especially considering she was holding his hand, which isn't a thing that girls tend to do. Especially girls like Brooke. Popular girls, that is.

Because no popular girl would insist on physical contact with a guy like Jeremy. Jeremy is a string bean, undesired when compared to pretty much every other guy on the menu. And compared to Jake. If Jeremy was a string bean, Jake was the filet mignon or lobster of the buffet of guys at the school. Ok, the food parallel is kinda getting away, but nonetheless. For what reason was Brooke, of all girls, offering to hang out with Jeremy, of all guys?

Brooke brought herself and Jeremy outside to an open, grassy landscape, lined with bushes and the occasional trash bin. Some trees were scattered about, showing to be great to sit under to get out of the sun and be in the shade. "This is my favorite spot behind the school." Brooke told Jeremy before sitting on a bench, her hand still holding his and gently welcoming him to sit as well. "I can see why." He replied as he sank into the seat, still taking in the green surroundings. It was best that he focus on that and not what had happened in the bathroom a few minutes earlier. He was fairly sure he was pretty much over it by now, but his heart was still beating rapidly due to the overwhelming nature of the incident.

He had almost forgotten that Brooke was holding his hand until she let go of it, bringing her own up to pin her hair behind her ear. She avoided Jeremy's eyes, and Jeremy flushed at the handholding that had just ended once he processed the here and now. "I think it's just a nice place to relax, so I thought it'd be a good way to distract from..." The girl trailed off, before cutting herself off. "What did happen? How did you cut your hand, where were you?" Brooke asked, surprised that she hadn't brought it up sooner.

Jeremy was also surprised it took her until now to ask what happened, but his surprise was quickly replaced with dread, among other things. Unknowingly fidgeting with the ends of the knotted scarf in his palm, he struggled to figure out how much to tell Brooke, if anything. He might as well say something though. He had hoped the SQUIP would give him some point of reference, but ultimately had to improvise when it said nothing.

"I was um... In the bathroom, and, I think uh... There was some broken glass that someone, that someone uh... I- I don't know? But yeah, I um... Got cut." He refused to look Brooke in the eye during any of his explanation, which probably gave off some kind of concern or worry inducing effect. This being because she then brought a hand to Jeremy's back and put forth comfort. "It's alright, Jeremy. Whatever happened, it's over now." She gently reassured him. Jeremy nodded quietly.

"Alright, genius, what now?" He thought. The SQUIP finally decided to give its host a clue. "You need to get popular, and here we have popular girl who likes you." Brooke likes him? Like likes him likes him or just likes him? Both were surprising, Jeremy had officially talked to her one other time at the mall. Other than that, they had no real one-on-one or even two-on-one interactions considering her friendship with Chloe. "Tear ducts: activate."

Before Jeremy could elaborate on any thoughts further, he broke down into tears, caving in on himself. He started crying and he couldn't stop himself, no matter how much he tried. This made Brooke scoot closer to Jeremy so their thighs touched, and she brought him into a side hug. "It's alright, it's ok, sshhh." She rubbed her hand up and down his back to calm him. Jeremy sniffled, trying to speak between sobs. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I br-" He stopped himself and corrected his wording. "Why I cut my hand, and I just- I don't- I don't know why I'm crying..."

The SQUIP activated his tear ducts, that much he knew, but the point still stood that he didn't know WHY he was crying. "Well I do." Brooke soothed. "You do?" Jeremy hiccuped in sincere curiosity. "And I totally understand." The girl continued. "They're saying it was a freak hockey accident." That wasn't where Jeremy thought she was going with that. "W-wait, what- what are you talking about?" He asked with a shaky voice, wiping his eyes. Brooke brought her free had to her mouth. "Oh my god, you don't know?" Jeremy shook his head. "Eminem's dead!"

The boy's eyebrows knitted together. Why would she think he'd be upset about that? "Mngh? Wait, Eminem is dead??" And then the tears poured out once more, making Jeremy sob grossly. The girl squeezed him tighter and continued with the words of comfort. He allowed himself to cry into her, hopefully letting the tears fall now would allow them to stop falling sooner. Although, why was he crying about the rapper? More importantly, how did he die and when? Why did this matter in the moment? Wait. The SQUIP told him the wear the Eminem shirt he got at the mall today.

"Did you know this was going to happen?!"

"Of course not!"

"So it's a coincidence you told me to wear this shirt?"

"Of course not."

Why has convenient timing been such a huge thing lately? This wasn't a coincidence. But if it's not a coincidence, then would that mean...? "Did you kill Eminem??" Was that a possibility?

The SQUIP started as if it were about to say no. "Not exactly. My intel processor allows me to foresee possible futures. While I wasn't aware that Eminem would be impaled by that rouge hockey stick, I was aware of the probability of a favorable outcome."

That explains it quite nicely, honestly, not any real loose ends. The SQUIP seeing possible outcomes to certain actions gives an answer to how it knew that Jeremy should've accepted a ride from Brooke and Chloe at the mall. But that begs the question, a few questions, actually. How a 'favorable outcome' such as wearing a shirt promoting a rapper who would soon be killed could indeed be labeled as favorable. More so, favorable for who? Himself? And why? Where the hell is the SQUIP taking Jeremy on this ride?

\---

Jeremy trudged through the hall as he was left alone with his thoughts, much to his relief. So much stuff had been happening within the span of twenty or so minutes.

Christine saying she had a crush on Jake at play rehearsal.

Jeremy running to the bathroom because his brain was like 'sure, why not.'

The SQUIP taunting him about whether he wanted Christine or Michael.

Taunting even more heavily about Michael.

Then taunting to the point where he smashed a bathroom mirror, if giving Jeremy what he supposed could be a panic attack wasn't bad enough.

Everything about the bathroom, honestly.

Then crying in front of Brooke when finding out about the apparent death of Eminem.

Finding out that the SQUIP all but knew that he would be killed through some intel processing something or other.

Seeing Jake invite Christine to his place, practically on a date.

Christine accepting his invitation.

And then the SQUIP encouraging Jeremy to pursue Brooke before Christine.

Upgrade this, upgrade that, now, now, now, just so, so much for him to take in.

Really, was this what he was hoping for from taking the pill? He didn't know what to expect from the SQUIP itself, sure, but he'd hoped that it wouldn't be this convoluted to simply have a chance with Christine. Does there have to be this amount of girl-hopping? Does it have to be so complicated to get over someone?

Jeremy caught a blur of red from the corner of his eye and turned to see it more clearly. As he had suspected, it was his best friend walking out of his science classroom. That was enough to make him smile. "Michael!" Jeremy waved. Michael's eyes flicked up to him before falling again. Jeremy crossed the hall to the other teen. Maybe Christine was who he was trying to get at the moment, but that didn't change that fact that Michael could automatically make his day better. "Oh my God, it's so good to see you." He sighed as he followed Michael down the hall a few feet.

Jeremy found it strange when he didn't get any sort of greeting back, not even a dorky smile. "Dude?" He tried again. He knew Michael saw him, he just wasn't making any attempt to note his presence. In fact, his presence wasn't even known that morning. "Where have you been all day?" He asked. Michael gave a dry laugh and stopped to turn to Jeremy, not wearing a very Michael expression. "Really? So you're not the one who's been avoiding me?" He asked in an uncharacteristically cold tone, taking Jeremy aback.

"What?" He cautioned. "What are you talking about? I haven't seen you since..." He trailed off, automatically having a hunch.

Reactivate.

"It's called optic nerve blocking." The SQUIP stated informatively, though that didn't quite answer why Jeremy didn't see Michael at all that day. Rather, it just raised another question. "I have access to your optic nerves, I've been blocking Michael from your field of vision." There's the answer, both of them actually. "Michael is a link to Jeremy 1.0. To upgrade, you have to be willing to make sacrifices."

Ok, this isn't what Jeremy wanted, an internal battle was on its way. "I want to get over my feelings, not cut him off completely!" He hastily thought. "It's all or nothing, Jeremy."

Michael narrowed his eyes in a skeptical, yet also slightly scared way. "Jeremy, why are you standing there all creepy and stuff?" Jeremy turned on his heel and paced toward the wall of lockers beside them, not wanting his face to hint at the heated discussion he was having with the snarky math toaster in his brain.

"How is it all or nothing? I don't see how being in a relationship with Christine prevents me from being friends with Michael."

"There are certain steps we need to take if things are to go ideally for what you're saying you want."

"Does it have to be this convoluted?!"

"Upgrade, Jeremy, remember that you are nothing as it currently is."

"And being something involves ditching my best friend for the sake of some social status?"

"Right, I forgot. Not only are you a waste of space, but you're a GAY waste of space."

"BI."

"Whatever."

Michael's voice snapped Jeremy back into the real world, the concern it was lined with even more so. "Seriously, what's up with you? You've been acting shady ever since..." Jeremy looked down at his shoes, he already knew where this was going and he didn't like it. There was no point in trying to hide it as far as he could tell. So he slowly turned back to his friend, eyes still on the ground. "Since..." Somehow, Jeremy managed to introduce his eyes to Michael's realizing gaze. It seemed to go in slow motion, a surreal moment. Michael stared for an eerily silent moment, making the entire school feel empty before puncturing the silence. "...it worked, didn't it?" Though he hardly needed to ask. Jeremy hardly need to answer, but he looked back at the ground and nodded, rubbing his arm.

He didn't know how Michael should've reacted, or even how he expected him to, but he figured the reaction he got was not necessarily the right one. "Ha, Jeremy! That's amazing!" Jeremy's eyes snapped back up to meet the energetic Michael that he knew and hated to love. Well, hated wasn't the right word, but the point stood. Jeremy grimaced, but was actually happy to see the brown-eyed teen happy, bouncing in place and flailing his hands about. "We gotta test it out! No- we gotta celebrate! We gotta- get stoned in my basement!" Jeremy's grimace formed into a fond smile. He might be changing, but Michael sure hasn't.

The teen in question ran in a direction and Jeremy was left alone to his thoughts once more. Except this time, he's subjected to tic tac torment. "You really do care about him, Jeremy, it doesn't take a genius to see that." The SQUIP materialized next to Jeremy with arms crossed and face wearing an impressed look. The blue-eyed boy sighed sadly. "Does it take a genius to see someone like me couldn't be with him?" He thought. The super computer smirked. "Replace him with Christine and your question may actually hold some weight." Jeremy squinted at the SQUIP. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The SQUIP leaned on one of the lockers to be at eye level with its host. "It's not too late to change your mind." It said in a singsong voice. Jeremy looked everywhere and nowhere, either not knowing or choosing not to know what it was implying. For as long as Jeremy could remember, Michael had been his best friend and nothing else. Nothing more or less. They were in a good place, even if today had been tainted by optic cock blocking.

Jesus, the fact that he called it that in his mind really shows how far gone he is. Damn, he's seriously got to get over himself. And he's gotta get over how much work he'd have to put forth to be with Christine. First of all, he has to be with Brooke before anything, which already seems like it could turn into some big deal with Chloe and anyone else she knew.

But what matters more? Friendship with Michael and suffering through an uncontrollable crush which is already annoying enough, but then being endlessly tormented and borderline tortured about it through an 8-bit brain chip, or going through some inevitable drama with Brooke that'll likely pass in a week or so with the steady stream of gossip Jenna provides, and thus having an actual relationship with Christine?

"Jeremy, are you coming?" Michael looked back at Jeremy with bright anticipation in his eyes and a smile across his face, and Jeremy made a split second decision.

Optic Nerve Blocking: On.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ye there was a time skip cuz I wanted this up as close to midnight as I could get. So yeah, HAVE A NOT THAT SUCKY 2018!!  
> 9/30/18 Edit: I was basically watching Claudia Cacace’s animatic of Upgrade the whole time I was writing this so yeah. (I seriously just typed ‘so yeah’ without even thinking about it and then I glanced up and saw that I put it in the og notes oh god)


	14. Spending Halloween Hanging In The Bathroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all fun and games until I reference three songs in the title  
> (Rape/Non-Con that only gets as bad as Do You Wanna Hang from the show. Take that however you will.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nOt DeAd yEt!! This chapter is a beast, oof...  
> (I posted this before I saw pics of Brooke’s costume so igNORE the inaccuracies)

October 31st, Halloween night, in which Jake was throwing a party that Jeremy was somehow invited to. Guess hanging with Brooke did have its upsides.

High school life in general did become more bearable after getting the SQUIP, but even more so since Jeremy started... Well, he didn't wanna say 'dating' since it was for the sake of a plan, but he was basically dating Brooke and spending a lot of time with her. At least a lot when compared to everyone else he knew (which still wasn't very many people.) Chloe was a close second, which wasn't surprising since her and the blonde had been attached at the hip for as long as he went to school with them. Probably even longer.

And something in Jake's house is definitely gonna end up being broken, some sophomores had made it a contest to jump off the banister and see who could land on the furthest end of the couch. If that wasn't enough, the red solo cups were in the same place as all the big kitchen knives, and Lord knows what drunk teenagers are going to do with sharp objects during the Halloween season.

Quite a few murderers in the crowd were left without a prop to murder with, but at least there was a Jason that settled for a loaf of bread.

...

That just about perfectly describes Halloween costumes on a budget.

Although, Jeremy wasn't much better with his hoodie cyborg, so he had no right to make fun of Rich... Even if seeing him flail the loaf around was pretty funny.

"Jeremy!"

Jeremy turned and saw Brooke wave at him before quickly walking over. "I was afraid you weren't coming, did you get my messages?" She asked.

"Play it off." The SQUIP instructed in a bored tone.

"Am I late? Didn't even realize." Jeremy shrugged. Brooke twirled her hair around her finger. "Well, what do you think of my costume? I figured you always see sexy cats, but no one ever goes as a sexy dog." It left little to the imagination, that much was clear right off the bat. The hem of Brooke's spotted top and skirt were both lined with lace and she wore a headband with fluffy, brown ears attached that folded forward. "Oh, it's..." Jeremy began.

"Vague compliment."

"Original." He finished, regretting his amazing words of flattery at the sight of Brooke deflating. 'Original?' Yeah, that totally doesn't sound dismissive and passive aggressive, good job. "I mean, amazing! Seriously, I can't believe I'm with a girl who looks like you." Jeremy corrected, which made the girl smile and cock an eyebrow. "You need a drink." She said, making it sound more like a statement than a question or offer. Jeremy nodded, maybe a little too quickly. That was something he did often, because God forbid he speak a coherent sentence after embarrassing himself to any degree, even the slightest amount.

CRASH! "Oh sHIT!"

Broken vase, it was only a matter of time.

Brooke walked to the kitchen to grab a drink for Jeremy while he was left standing too close to the couch for comfort. (Ah? Get it?) More sophomores and a couple of juniors were now backflipping off the top of the stairs, and a couple had already almost landed on the coffee table.

\---

After about an hour and a half or so, Jeremy propped himself against a wall to catch his breath. He hadn't danced that much since... Ever. Then again, he didn't go to many parties, so the opportunity hadn't really arisen until tonight.

And hey, Jake wasn't a total douche nozzle to him, so bonus points. Chloe, Christine, and several other partygoers had been witnesses to Jake accepting Jeremy more fully, so that was a confidence boost. And honestly, who wouldn't feel a little cocky after getting on good terms with the most popular guy you've known since 7th grade?

On the subject of popular peers, Chloe stood up and started walking toward Jeremy with a sense of purpose and determination. "I'm supposed to get you, Brooke has a surprise." She said without hesitation. "Really?" Jeremy panted. "What kind of surprise?"

The girl clad in a sexy baby costume rolled her eyes. (Seriously, of all possible things, why a baby?) "The kind where you don't ask questions and follow me upstairs." She snapped, before taking Jeremy by the wrist and leading him up the stairs. There wasn't any room to argue, so he didn't.

Chloe weaved through friend congregations and flew swiftly through the halls without missing a beat, knowing very clearly where she wanted to go. Once she and Jeremy came to the surprise destination, she creaked the door open and slipped inside, leaving it open for the boy.

"Jake's parents' room." Chloe introduced quietly. "Don't worry, they're not using it." She whispered, turning back to close the door and turn on a bedside lamp. "Wow, you... really know your way around." Jeremy finally spoke again. "Yeah, I've had sex in pretty much every room in this house." Chloe said nonchalantly, almost proud.

"What...?"

"Because I dated Jake!" Chloe laughed, faking offense and shock. "God, what kind of slut do you think I am?"

Jeremy resolved to not answer her, seeing as how she called herself a slut, probably as a test. But then again, probably not. For all he knew, Chloe was just drunk, and that was a very likely assumption seeing as how he didn't know what was in the baby bottle she'd been drinking out of for a most of the night. The one she was chugging from right now.

It had occurred to Jeremy that he and Chloe were alone in the bedroom, with her friend nowhere to be seen. "Where's Brooke?" He finally asked.

The girl finished her swig with a clumsy swing of her head. "Oh my God, you are too freaking adorable." She slurred slightly, before whispering to the boy. "Brooke's not coming." She waved her finger around Jeremy's face, then tapped him on the nose. "She's not? Then why..." Chloe shushed him and waved her finger around again, though more furiously, if it could be called that given that she was most definitely buzzed at LEAST.

She pushed Jeremy with a less than graceful hand so that he'd be sitting on the edge of the bed, and immediately plopped down next to him. Again, less than gracefully. Chloe swung her arm around Jeremy and rested her chin on his shoulder, using her free hand to pull his face around to hers. "I wanted to hang." The girl drunkenly whispered, leaning into the boy to make him lean away in turn. Apparently personal space was removed from your vocabulary when alcohol was involved. "Ya'know, just you and me... Talking about all our feelings and shit." Now, she was trying for intimacy and... Something else.

Jeremy had gotten better about physical contact with others, but this wasn't something that he had at all anticipated. So of course, the infamous awkwardness showed through as he continued his efforts to put as much space between him and Chloe as possible. This obviously failed, seeing as how he was practically letting her push him back onto the bed so he was laying at a strange L shaped angle. Because there was really no other place he could go with the girl literally putting all her weight onto him.

He tried to escape anyway, but to no avail. Chloe was drunk, she didn't know what she was doing. She took off her bonnet and tossed it aside, biting her lip. "If I get wrecked, you could rock this baby fast asweep." She winked.

Oh dear God, that sounded absolutely horrible in every possible way. But then it hit Jeremy. Holy shit, it was so stupidly obvious. Chloe was trying to jump his bones. "I have to go." Jeremy anxiously let out as he stood up. Except he didn't stand up.

He couldn't stand up.

"You're welcome." The SQUIP said proudly.

Oh screw you.

Chloe began letting her long brown hair down. "I don't know why she's so crazy about you, you're not that cute. No offense."

"None taken!" Jeremy replied all too quickly. "I should get back-"

Chloe pushed him back down onto the bed. "You know she's not all that innocent. That wounded puppy routine? It's how she gets all the guys. Acts all helpless so they wanna protect her." She described in a mocking tone. "Not that I care." The girl added on, going to unzip the boy's hoodie. As the realization dawned upon Jeremy, he stopped her hands with his own. "You're jealous of Brooke!" Chloe scoffed. "Um, obviously not. Now just-"

Jeremy sat up, pulling Chloe's hands off of him. "That's insane! Why would you be jealous of anyone? You're the hottest girl in school!" He then regretted everything in his life leading up to this point, realizing a second too late that he called Chloe the hottest girl in school.

Out loud.

To her face.

While holding her by the wrists.

On a bed.

Being straddled by her.

While she was HORNY.

She pushed into an aggressive kiss and Jeremy tried to push away just as aggressively. Emphasis on 'tried.' "Woah, woah! Make it stop!" He panicked, unsure whether he was speaking out loud or just in his head. The SQUIP replied calmly all the same. "I don't understand the request."

Like hell it didn't understand, this was nonconsensual. Never mind that you couldn't spell 'nonconsensual' without 'sensual', this was not ok in the slightest.

"Why dontcha stop bein' coy, Jerry Berry?" Chloe crooned, cupping Jeremy's face in her hands. "Wanna get inside my diaper, boy?"

OK. MAYBE Chloe had a daddy kink, good for her! To each their own! But there were just so, SO many negative connotations to her smooth-talking Jeremy while playing this 'character', to say the least! She had a baby bottle and everything! Even if Jeremy DID want to bang Chloe, he wouldn't want to do it while she was dressed up for the part of an infant.

Jeremy's pursuer screwed the entire lid off her bottle. "It's not actually milk." She winked, though that much was obvious right from the word go. "I-I'm not really a big drinker." Jeremy's protest went ignored as Chloe force fed him whatever alcohol was contained in what was practically her flask. There was an odd surge at the back of Jeremy's head, but he couldn't take much more note of it with Chloe's tongue in his mouth.

Then a knock came to the door, and her hand slapped over the boy's mouth before he could so much as yelp. "Jeremy? Are you in there?" It was Brooke at the door. Jeremy wanted to respond so badly. Chloe gestured 'shh', in case her hand over his mouth wasn't doing enough to keep him silent. "Jenna Rolan said she saw you go upstairs." Brooke came in again. "Jeremy?" There was a moment of silence, then the sound of the blonde walking away. Chloe took her hand off Jeremy's face and rolled her eyes in an annoyed manner. "Jenna Rolan should mind her own business." She growled.

"Brooke's going to find out." Jeremy still wanted to make some attempt at convincing Chloe to not eat him alive. "Don't you care?" Chloe made a face. "You're less cute when you're talking." She frowned. Ok, it was time to break out the big guns. The big guns being the reason Jeremy was in this mess.

"Help me out here!"

"Kon'nichiwa!"

...SQUIP, the hell?

"I'm sorry, Jeremy. Alcohol temporarily scrambles my-" The SQUIP continued speaking in Japanese. Jeremy didn't need to understand what it said to know that the computer would be of no help to him. "Then why'd you make me drink it?!" He asked, extremely annoyed.

"It was important you take advantage of the-" It probably said something like 'situation' in Japanese. "You'll thank me-" It likely said 'later.' It spouted off a bit more in its native language.

A pounding on the door came, along with a male voice. "JEREMY HEERE?" Said teen's heart swallowed itself into his stomach. Chloe grinned. "Ooh, the fun begins." Nothing about this was fun, and Jeremy doubted anything would change that. "Jeremy, I know you're not having sex on my parents' bed. Because if you were, I'd have to rip your balls off." It was Jake at the door.

Jake at the door.

Oh.

God.

NO.

"GREAT! THEN YOU CAN BOTH BE BALL-LESS." Jeremy stared slack-jawed at the girl atop him in utter shock. There was a beat of silence.

"...CHLOE?"

The doorknob rattled angrily, so it was a good thing that Chloe apparently locked the door without Jeremy knowing until now. Several thuds followed, meaning that Jake was now throwing himself at the door.

"Keikoku! Keikoku!" The SQUIP sounded in Jeremy's ear, which probably meant something along the lines of 'Abort mission, abort mission! Get your ass out of there right the hell now before Jake LITERALLY kills you!'

"HEAR THAT? JEREMY AND I ARE HAVING HOT, STEAMY SEX AAAAALL OVER YOUR PARENTS' LINENS!" Chloe humped Jeremy's leg for emphasis, and he finally managed to push her off of him to stand up. "No we're not! I swear we're not!" He knew his call would be fruitless, but he still wanted to get the message out that he and Chloe weren't screwing.

Jeremy fumbled with the lock and handle, jumping back in time to not be rammed into by Jake. Just not in time to not be knocked onto the ground. Jake's face scrunched up in fury upon his eyes falling on Jeremy. "You are so dead, Heere! Ya hear?!" Jeremy crawled out the door on his hands and knees as Sonic-like as his wobbly limbs would allow, unintentional tripping Jake, who was mid-lunge to tackle him. The taller teen let out a pained grunt upon his landing.

The juniors and sophomores that had been banister diving earlier were now simply sitting against their launch pad, with wide eyes and hands over their mouths. They looked to each other with surprised laughs, obviously assuming the same scandalous acts that Chloe's ex thought were taking place. They were clearly amused by the drama, and they no doubt knew the whole deal. They had likely been eavesdropping the entire time.

Jeremy was far too terrified for his life to scold them for not minding their own damn business as he flailed to his feet and scrambled down the steps two at a time, jumping the last five and narrowly missing a group of drunk girls. The loud music only added to the noise of other party goers and the immature asses yelling 'Get paid, get laid, GATORADE!' from the top of the steps, cheering him on for the sex he didn't have. Jeremy ran under where the teens had been backflipping to be in the hallway housing the front door, a coat closet and a towel closet. Though where he actually decided to escape, rather than outside and to his house, was the bathroom.

It wasn't a fool proof hiding spot, but it was the closest door with a lock and you bet your ass Jeremy was going to be hiding behind it. If worst came to worst, he could climb out the window. So he hurriedly fumbled the door locked and held himself against the thin lumber, partially to keep himself upright and partially barricading against a pounding. He hadn't heard Jake chasing him after he tripped over him, but all he could really hear at the time was himself thundering down the stairs and the thumping bass from the speakers.

The music was now muffled behind the door, and the thumping taking up more of Jeremy's attention was the one in his chest. Thumpity, thumpity, thumpity to go along with his shaky panting. He did a quick once over of his surroundings, noting the subtle scent of pot and beer.

The bathroom didn't have a window.

Well, good to know that his escape plan wasn't happening if Jake decided to pull a 'Here's Johnny' on his ass.

Jeremy's legs managed to carry him to the edge of the bathtub for him to sit down and regain his breath. He had barley escaped the grasp of certain death and/or ball-less... ness... By the skin of teeth.

Not the skin of something else, thankfully.

Jeremy ran his hands through his hair in a way that almost calmed him down, and it would have if it weren't for something LATCHING ONTO HIM FROM BEHIND. Any amount of calm that he did feel vanished in less than a second, and he couldn't help but scream. Jake had TELEPORTED INTO THE BATHTUB and was about to MURDER AND/OR MUTILATE JEREMY.

But the strange thing was that his assailant was wearing fake, silicone monster hands. Zombie hands that Jeremy would recognize anywhere. If not for the acronym 'AotD' in the palms, then for the wear and tear of them. Slivers of silicone missing where it had clearly been picked off, and red sharpie scribbled in various spots to make the toy gloves look bloodier by a 10-year-old's logic. It was then clear that Jake wasn't the one in the tub.

"Michael?" For a moment, Jeremy hoped he was wrong.

"Sup."

The dreaded moment passed as soon as his suspicions were confirmed. For the first time in over a month, he had just spoken to Michael. The teen in question let go of Jeremy to allow him a bit of space and the opportunity to turn and face him.

Confusion then leaked into the shaken up teen's relief. "I didn't know you were invited to this party." Jeremy wheezed.

"I wasn't." Michael confirmed. "Which is why I'm wearing this... 'clever' disguise." He took off his mask and dropped it in the tub, busying himself with taking off the years-old zombie gloves. Aside from his Halloween adornments, Michael was wearing his CREEPS sweater and a pair of shorts.

Shorts: Not something he wore often. Which was a shame because Jeremy kinda liked it when Michael wore shorts, for reasons that not even he quite understood. Maybe it was good to see that he did actually have legs. But even in ungodly hot summers, Jeremy didn't count on seeing Michael wearing shorts, and he definitely wasn't really expecting to see him wearing shorts tonight.

Then again, he hadn't expected to see his former (?) friend at all. The alcohol had messed up the SQUIP, which obviously meant that it couldn't use optic nerve blocking on Michael like it previously had been. It was blissful that Jeremy didn't need to worry about his crush, or even think about him as long as the SQUIP was on to remind him of his goal. But all that was gone and out the window thanks to God knows what Chloe dumped down Jeremy's throat. To add onto everything, he was intoxicated by said mystery alcohol, meaning that his thoughts and actions from this point on wouldn't necessarily be the most... Rational.

Oh goodie, the rest of the night was going to be fun.

Michael frowned. "You're speechless." He stated, pulling Jeremy back into reality. "What's the matter? SQUIP got your tongue?" He asked a little too aggressively. Jeremy had to stare at Michael for a moment to figure out which one word response he was supposed to use. "No." He said quickly. "It's... It's off." He sighed, leaning against the wall. God, he needed to sit down.

The teen in the tub snapped and pointed a finger. "That would explain why you're talking to me." He replied with a hint of snark. The accuracy stung.

Michael climbed out of the bathtub and sat on the lip of his pristine, white lifeboat. Jeremy slid down his wall onto the ground. Hell, Michael was sitting, so he might as well be too. "Ssssso..." The SQUIPped teen started awkwardly. "How's stuff?"

It was a question that Michael responded to with rolled eyes. "Don't act like you care." He scoffed, putting an elbow on his knee and his head in the adjoining hand. He didn't look at the boy in front of him. Jeremy blinked and looked down at nothing, deciding that no words were the best words to say at that moment.

They stayed like that for a minute, neither one wanting to say anything to the other. For Jeremy, it was for fear of putting Michael in an even worse mood than he was already clearly in. Michael, however, was visibly too pissed to want to talk to him at all. Jeremy honestly couldn't blame him, he figured the silent, ignoring eyes were the least he deserved after completely disregarding the other teen for a month and a half.

The silence was broken by the bathtub dwelling boy. "I was thinking about this moment." Jeremy looked up at Michael, who wasn't even scowling at him, but at the bathroom door. Every bit of how fed-up he was showed on his face, if it wasn't clear enough through his jarringly upset voice. "You know, thinking about what I was gonna say to you. I had this pissed off monologue planned out that I was going to spiral into. An epic journey through twelve years of friendship. To make you feel like a total piece of garbage for leaving me like you did." Michael gave a humorless laugh, not a real laugh. "Maybe even make you cry a little, I don't know. And maybe then, you would feel even the slightest bit as-... BAD? As I did?"

All the emotions that were been building up inside him oozed into his words as he continued on, looking Jeremy directly in the eye now. "Which is the understatement of the entire goddamn year if I'm honest! Seriously! After everything we've been through, you just had to go and walk away as if none of it even happened! And you didn't stop to think how I would respond!" Michael stopped abruptly and squinted at the grounded teen for a moment, analyzing him. Jeremy didn't know how to react, so he squinted his own eyes and cocked his head in return, though without the same bitterness that the teen above him did.

Michael shook his head and made a sort of defeated shrugging gesture. "But really, why should I waste a speech like that on you when you're too drunk to comprehend it?" Jeremy took offense to the unexpected dismissal. "What?!" He protested. "Dude, I'm not drunk!"

"Oh really? You're not?" Michael bounced back rhetorically, pointing at the bathroom door. "You know that root beer's been spiked with real beer, right?" Jeremy sighed in annoyance. "Fine, I had like, one drink!" He admitted, hoping the half-truth would be enough to satisfy his accuser.

"And you have shit alcohol tolerance." The aforementioned accuser said in a 'no shit' tone. "You're like, the lightest weight ever."

"I'm not drunk, man, really! Ok, it's not my fault Chloe was wasted and tried to get me as shit-faced her!" Jeremy didn't really know why he was defending himself, there was no real point in doing so. It couldn't have been because he wanted to hear the other teen rat him out, could it? Wouldn't that be something? Despite the protests, Michael simply gave him a bored look.

"Jeremy."

"Like if it weren't for her, I'd still be out there!"

"Jer."

"I didn't come to this party to drink myself stupid!"

"Dude."

"But I guess that's why everyone else goes, a Halloween party's a rad excuse to put your body through mad abuse! ...Oh shit, that rhymed."

"Jeremy, when and how did I break my nose?"

The out-of-nowhere question threw Jeremy off. "What? Why?"

"Humor me for a second, will ya?"

"What are you, testing me?"

"Just answer the question." Michael snapped.

Jeremy's eyes rolled up to the ceiling. "Fine." He groaned. "We were eight years old, aaand you drank an energy drink thinking it was soda or something..." The boy swung his arm around in a race car sort of way. "Then youu ran outside like the little ball of hyper you were..." He repeated the motion at his attempts to find his next words, eyes following his hand in mild desperation, as if the sweeping motion were supposed to help the rest of the story come to mind. "Out in- out in the cold. And... You- you ran into a streetlight and you- you- you-..." He dropped his arm into his lap, looking up at the one quizzing him. "You broke your nose, ya broke it." Jeremy finished, feeling useless accomplishment.

Michael, on the other hand, looked far less than impressed. He brought up a finger for each of his following points. "We were six, it was a tree, you're drunk." The now declared drunk gave a look of childlike betrayal. "I'm drunk because I forgot those tiny, pointless details?"

"You would've remembered them if you were sober." The dark-skinned teen quipped, looking away in disinterest.

Jeremy slid down the wall a few inches more, buzzing his lips at the pickiness Player One was displaying. "Alright, how about this? When we were SIX years old, you ran outside in the snow and broke your nose on a TREE." He corrected himself snottily. Michael's head whipped back around with a face of disgust. "It was October. WHAT snow?!" The pure offense poured into the five words was truly astounding.

Wait... Shit, was Jeremy mixing his events up? Was there a point when Michael ran out in the snow like a total lunatic? Or was he pulling that detail out of nowhere? Shit, he was drunk. Or distracted? Maybe both. Definitely both. God, he hadn't seen Michael in so long, he'd about forgotten what it was like to be in the same room as him. He was starting to feel warm and floaty, which was likely the fault of... Honestly, it might as well have been Moonshine in Chloe's bottle, Jeremy seriously couldn't think straight.

Which was true in both ways.

Michael's face was flushed red with anguish and frustration as he was thrown into a rant about how completely out of it Jeremy was, and how infuriating that was. Going on about how much he'd wanted to give the guy a piece of his mind earlier, but couldn't. And now that he had the chance, it would be pointless because Jeremy couldn't even sit up straight, much less be able to take in every little bit of how hurt Michael was.

The yelling directed at him wasn't fun, so Jeremy had sort of instinctively hugged his legs to make himself smaller. He then found that he was smiling despite himself, this was the first time in over a month that he'd been able to look at Michael.

And he realized how much he missed it.

The words pouring from the infuriated boy's being became a mere murmur as Jeremy blearily gazed back at him, propping his chin onto his knees in a daze. He watched how Michael's glasses would slide down the bridge of his nose in more intense moments of action, and how he would push them back up a few seconds later. Such a tiny, insignificant movement seemed so strangely endearing in Jeremy's tilted, blurred-around-the-edges vision, and it wasn't clear why.

Then again, nothing looked very clear at the moment, everything sort of blended together like bleached out water colors, but the teen couldn't have felt more content. Add some cannabis into the mix, and this would be the recipe for the perfect high. (In fact, if he didn't know any better, he would've said he was just the right amount of stoned, the scent was there and all.)

Jeremy could've fallen asleep right then and there with how heavy his eyelids had gotten while his mind wondered and The Michael Show played out in front of him. The show in question looked to be on pause, so the volume was turned up as the inebriated boy tuned back into reality.

Michael gave a somewhat suspicious and quizzically cocked eyebrow. "What?" He asked, as if responding to an inaudible 'guess what.' Jeremy shrugged lazily, shaking his head just as much so. "It's just... Really great to see you, man..." He breathed. His filter had dissolved.

It was hard to read Michael's expression, but more than anything, it gave off the impression of 'done.' "Sure it is..." He muttered apathetically, not clear whether it was intended for Player Two to hear.

"'M serious." Jeremy slurred. "We haven' talked lately an' I haven't even seen you in... A while."

"Yeah, wonder who's fault that is."

"Yeh the tic tac doesn't like you that much, but-"

Michael glared daggers into him. "If you say you love me, I will smack you."

Jeremy closed his half-open mouth and puffed out his cheeks while it quietly dawned upon him that a drunken 'I love you' wouldn't have been the best thing to give, especially since Player One was already perturbed at his less than intellectual state. His face spread into a goofy smile upon thinking over the wording of Michael's threat.

"...you love me." He giggled.

What Jeremy received from the other teen was not a slap in the face, no, but rather a solid, eternal 'you have got to be kidding me' stare that seemed to drag on forever. Michael's hands slowly came up to his face, covering up his truly pained, thoroughly disappointed expression and pushing his glasses up to his forehead. His only verbal response was a century-long groan that eventually evolved into something of a whine. He kept his face behind his hands, dragging out his next proclamation.

"Jeremy, you're killin' me here..."

"Heheh, Heere."

Michael's glasses fell back down to his nose as he spun around to grab an empty beer can (that seemingly appeared out of nowhere) out of the bathtub, proceeding to chuck it at Jeremy as a means to shut his dumb ass up. Jeremy jumped as the aluminum can bounced off of him, skittering and rattling about on the smooth tile floor. "Oowwww..." He whined, though by no means did the thin metal cylinder actually hurt him.

However, he was slightly afraid as to how much more ammo the tub was carrying.

He didn't notice until then that Michael had stood up upon throwing the can, and of course, Jeremy had to crane his neck up to see him. Immediately deciding that that took too much effort, he very stupidly attempted to stand himself up. He stumbled, obviously, and had to stay leaning against the wall if he didn't want to fall on anything. Or anyone, which was more of a danger in multiple regards.

Seeing the teen wobble around, Michael rolled his eyes. "You might think it's all fun and games now, but it won't be once you hear what I found out." Jeremy squinted, unsure as to what the context was. "Found out?" He parroted.

"Abooout..." Michael flicked Jeremy on the forehead, who winced at the physical contact. It took him a second to realize that the flick wasn't just abuse, and his eyes widened a little once he figured out that Michael was talking about the SQUIP. "How? There's nothing on the Internet." He said, actually sounding impressed.

"Which is weird, right? I mean, pff, what can't you find on the Internet?" Michael began to pace around the small confines of the bathroom. "So I started asking around, and finally, finally! This guy I play Warcraft with told me his brother went from a straight D student to a freshman at Harvard."

"...Wow..." Jeremy breathed. "Yeah, wow is right." Michael turned to him, completely straight-faced. (Heh, irony.) "Do you know where he is now?" He asked plainly. "Umm..." Jeremy looked at the faucet, as a water droplet slowly bubbled up and fell almost perfectly into the drain of the sink. "...really happy and successful?" He answered, as if the dripping facet had told him to say that.

Please be the right answer.

"He's in a mental hospital."

Damn it.

Also, holy shit...

"He totally lost it." Michael slowly shook his head to go along with the statement.

"...ok, but I don't see what that has to do with-"

"UGHHH!" Michael groaned. "THINK, man!" Jeremy jumped, unsure as to what he did wrong. "We are talking an insanely powerful super computer! This. Gets. Shit. Done! Really, do you think its primary function is to get you laid?"

The blue-eyed teen didn't answer. Of course he didn't think that exactly, but would now really be the best time to try and explain his very complicated, stutter-inducing thought process, which would also kinda-sorta-maybe-just-a-little-tiny-bit-totally be a confession? I think not.

"Who made them?"

That's like asking who manufactured one specific can of Dr. Pepper.

"How did they end up in a high school?" Michael threw his arms up in the air. "IN NEW JERSEY!"

Jeremy's eyes darted around, looking for an answer, one that most certainly would not be found in the bathroom of a fellow student's home.

"Of all possible applications for such a- a mind-blowingly advanced technology, did you once, ONCE stop to think what it was doing inside YOU? Jeremy Heere, junior in high school, Tetris extraordinaire, Pac-Man tattoo, sleeps with a fleece Deadpool blanket."

Ok, now he was getting personal. Now it seemed to be the time for Jeremy to say or do something. But he was blanking. And there was no one there to give him any hints, pointers or clues. It was just him and Michael.

Michael, who was clearly doing everything he could to get a point across. Who was clearly trying to reach out to Jeremy for something. For some reason, something that seemed really important. But what? What was it? Something about the SQUIP, obviously. Apparently someone else had had one, and now they were in a mental hospital. Did that person's SQUIP directly cause that? Or did that even happen at all? If it did, how? If it didn't, why would Michael make something like that up? Why was that left so ambiguous? Why did it have to be Michael to tell him all this? Of all people, it just HAD to be him. The one person who he trusted and listened to faithfully for so long, longer than the SQUIP. Way, WAY longer. He was probably the one person who would be able to sway his opinion as much, hell, probably even MORE than the SQUIP ever could. The SQUIP, which had been blocking Michael from his field of vision for weeks and weeks and weeks. And for those weeks, he literally couldn't do so much as look at Michael if he wanted to. (And Jesus, there were some points where part of him really kinda wanted to see him.) And now that he was here, he was making the SQUIP look like it didn't belong in his brain. That it was a mistake, that it wasn't meant to be there. But it had made everything so much better by comparison.

Well, ignoring tonight, but hey, you can't win em all.

And now, he was at a loss. He didn't know what to say or do or who to listen to or trust. It was the same uncertainty as before he got the SQUIP, and every time that it didn't tell him what he was supposed to do.

Which made him think.

What would the SQUIP want him to do?

"...and I thought Chloe was jealous."

Michael did make it seem like Jeremy of all people shouldn't have one, maybe he wanted one for himself.

"I'm honestly asking." His voice cracked.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah!"

...Really? Shit, he probably was. He definitely was. He looked a bit like he was about to start crying. Which wasn't a very Michael thing for him to do. Shit.

But when all else fails, just deny.

"Because I think... That- you're just pissed. That I have one and you don't."

Michael rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. "Come on-"

Deny and guilt trip. The best you can.

"Maybe I got lucky! Is that so weird? I mean- with- with my history, with my problems, with my sorry excuse for a family, I would say that the universe owed me one! And- and look, I don't know about your- your... Friend's-"

Wait, who was it again?

"Boyfriend's..."

Probably not that, but he couldn't stop now.

"Whatever, but if you're trying to tell me that his SQUIP made him crazy-"

"HA!" Another humorless laugh. "Jeremy, his SQUIP didn't make him crazy-"

"Alright! Well there ya go-!"

"HE WENT CRAZY TRYING TO GET IT OUT!"

 

 

  
The bathroom was devoid of any and all sound, simply filling up with dark, empty air. Time seemed to have stopped, and the soft murmur of the dying-down party outside the bathroom door was the only indicator that it hadn't. The words played back in Jeremy's head.

'He went crazy trying to get it out.'

He wanted to get it out.

He didn't want the SQUIP.

Why not though?

He'd gotten into Harvard because of it, what reason would he have to get it out?

What reason?

Those were stupid questions and Jeremy knew it. He knew damn well how strict his own SQUIP was, and he wasn't even trying to become a lawyer. His worst punishment other than the electric shocks (which probably WERE the worst thing, but he got those so often that not a day goes by where he gets shocked for basically no reason) was the push ups he had to do for thinking about sex.

Aaaaaand the occasional bonus curl-up.

Or five.

If that was the worst that Jeremy had to go through, and simply for his stupid, petty high school reasons, (because I dunno, high school?) then Harvard student-turned mental hospital patient was probably forced to walk straight through hell and back again several times while dragging a ball and chain by his neck.

Jeremy did know why that person would try and get rid of his SQUIP.

But he couldn't let Michael know that.

"...Well, then, what do I have to worry about?"

For the first time since Jeremy had seen him, Michael softened a bit. "You don't know what that thing's gonna do to you."

"I know what it's done FOR me."

A lot of questionable shit, that's what.

"And you don't see me complaining, now do you?"

On the outside, no. On the inside, let's absolutely hope the hell not.

Michael gestured to the bathroom, or perhaps the party as a whole. "And this is your dream come true?"

Brush it off.

"...Maybe it is."

"Yeah? Well, how long until this completely screws you over and you go crazy too?"

Deny.

"I won't."

"You don't know that."

Turn it on him.

"Neither do you! Maybe that guy was the exception, maybe his SQUIP was faulty, maybe he was crazy before he got it, it could've been any number of things."

Jeremy pushed off from the wall, turning to leave as what he hoped was the final nail in the coffin. He hoped that that could be the end of it all and that he could get out before he screwed something up. Because Jeremy wasn't Jeremy if he didn't screw something up. Especially with his SQUIP turned off.

"You don't know, you don't have one!"

Before he had even gotten halfway to the door, Michael already beat him to it. With an arm outstretched to block the exit further, his face was a mix of three parts stern and one part afraid.

It wasn't the final nail.

"I don't need to have an overrated Bluetooth in my head to know that everything could go horribly wrong for you, Jeremy." There was a swirl of pain in Michael's voice and eyes, but he also wasn't ready to stop standing his ground.

Which was a goddamn pain in and of itself, because the longer Jeremy stayed, the more likely he was going to say or do something horrifically and indescribably stupid. And he cursed himself for always hoping too hard that things would go how he wanted them to, out of some kind of blind not-quite optimism.

"Well then that's my problem."

Jeremy reached for the doorknob, automatically getting his hand batted away from it. Upon trying again, he only got more of the same. But more of the same wasn't helping him or Michael, and it hurt that Michael didn't know that, and that he really needed to, but also couldn't.

"And I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

He did what he could to fight fire with fire, smacking at Michael's hands as well and dodging Player One's attacks whenever possible. He needed to get out, badly. Desperately, in fact.

"Assuming that bridge even exists."

Once Jeremy finally took hold of the knob and pulled the door open, Michael pushed his back against the lumber to close what small of a gap he was able to create. Hearing the outside party a few decibels louder and only seeing light peek in through the crack for a painfully short moment, he shot Michael a look. "C'mon, man, move it."

Of all the times he could've chosen to be stubborn, Michael just had to pick now.

The boy crossed his arms over his chest, glaring daggers at Jeremy the hardest he had all night.

"Or you'll what?"

He phrased it as less of a question and more as a threat, it being the truest thing he'd said all night.

Truest? Ok, that's not the right word.

'Truest' in the sense that he and Jeremy both knew that the latter had nothing against the former, who outranked him in height, weight, and pretty much everything else. True though it was that Jeremy was probably doing more - ahem - working out (however unwillingly) than Michael, higher stamina would only help him beat the other if that called for him to haul ass and not look back, which, aha, that's definitely not the case right now.

So no, Jeremy couldn't do anything along the lines of brute force to get Michael out of his path, 'truest' in that sense. And even if he could be just a little more evenly matched up to him, a three inch height difference in favor of totally-not-him could only do so much as far as intimidation goes. This thought lingered as Jeremy thought back to his ironic nickname of 'Tall-Ass', given by none other than Rich. Height was not on his side.

Wait...

Not for Rich. As far as Rich goes... Well, anything goes. He could lift Jeremy despite the fact that he was the shorter of the two of them, and he was truly intimidating as hell. Rich, the same person who had literally substituted a machete for a loaf of bread as a weapon at a Halloween party, which made him look marginally less than terrifying, especially given his previously mentioned short stature, could really scare someone.

Well, personality plays a pretty big role, but still.

Intimidation could potentially work in his favor.

Jeremy's eyes melted into the darkest gaze he could manage, taking a step closer to Michael and leaning in close enough that their noses almost touched, casting shadows on both their faces. It hadn't even occurred to him how close he'd actually gotten, even in his moment of simply staring lowly at the teen in front of him. When he stayed longer still, he still hadn't given it a second thought. "Get out of my way." He breathed in a low tone. Michael half-raised an eyebrow, saying nothing and giving no other response or reaction, visual or verbal.

It wasn't the final nail.

 

 

Yet.

"...Loser." The final word came out as more of a growled hiss. Jeremy maintained the gaze for a second longer, reaching for the doorknob once again. Seeing only the start of Michael's expression beginning to shift, he watched his hand as his wrist rotated and unlatched the door. He pulled it open, and he wasn't stopped this time. Instead of leaning back to close the door again, Michael simply let himself be pushed up next to the wall by it, allowing Jeremy enough room to squeeze out and return to the party.

The door shut behind him a loud clack.

 

 

  
That.

 

 

  
That was the final nail.

Noting that the house was considerably emptier, yet still irritatingly loud, Jeremy reasoned that the party was starting to wind down just a bit. Walking toward the living room, he looked over his shoulder to the second floor, relieved to see a lack of Banister Divers™.

So they left.

Good.

Jeremy's eyes followed the line where the walls met back down to the bathroom he had just exited. From the outside, it didn't look like two long-time friends with a compromised friendship had been at each other's throats in the water closet just mere seconds ago. It didn't look like one had been hugging his knees and blearily making goo goo eyes at the other while he ranted about how goo-goo-eyes-boy's brain was in the 13th dimension or whatever. It didn't look like anyone had yelled at the other or thrown an empty beer can because someone made a dumb joke about his last name. It didn't look like anything had happened at all.

And maybe it was just Jeremy, but it looked like all that had happened, just from the outside. And maybe he was biased, because he knew that it did. And for some reason, it felt like everyone else also knew just by being in the house. Yet it felt like they were all completely oblivious at the same time. He knew that Michael was still in there, and Jeremy felt as though he could stare at him right through the door. It felt like Michael was in the exact same position, back facing the door where he'd been left. He felt like he could see Michael looking down at his shoes, at a loss for what to do.

"Hey..."

Jeremy's thoughts were interrupted by a sad voice from behind. He turned around, seeing Christine sitting on the couch with some guy passed out on the other end. Possibly a senior? Who knows. The girl gave a weak smile and a small wave as the boy hesitantly walked up to her.

"Yo..." He greeted, sitting down. After a beat, he prompted her. "So, where's your date?" She gestured with her head to the stairs. "Upstairs, having make-up sex with Chloe. So, my night's been pretty fun." Jeremy let out an empathetic sigh. "Jake ditched you?"

"Well..." Christine started noncommittally. "He was being kind of a jerk, like, all night, so I broke it off with him. He invited himself upstairs - and I mean, it is his house so he can go wherever, but, anyway -"

She pointed a finger up. "He went upstairs..."

She pointed down. "And then. You came downstairs..."

Pointed to the bathroom. "And ran into the bathroom..."

Vague hand gesture. "And... I've just kind of been..."

Hand dropped to her thigh. "Sitting here."

"...Oh."

Hearing that Christine had witnessed all but everything sort of slid off of Jeremy's shoulders as he thought more about the side of the story he wasn't exactly there for. "That was... Really shitty of him to do..." He said, choosing to ignore the fact that he didn't even know where Brooke was. The girl gave a small nod and a crooked frown, eyes falling onto the coffee table. Jeremy scoffed to himself. "Jake Dillinger... More like Jake..." He looked up, trying to find something witty to say. "...Dick. Licker."

It garnered a small laugh out of Christine, followed by a shrug. "I mean, he is pan." She agreed in a 'sure, why not' tone. Jeremy squinted up at the ceiling he was still looking at, going over the girl's words again in mild confusion. "He iiiiiss... paaaaann..."

"...panse-"

"OH! Ok yeah no, I get it now, I- psh, I'm- I'm dumb, I-I understand now!" The boy nervously laughed at his delayed realization. Christine tittered. "You sure?" She asked in a mocking, yet playful tone. "Yeah! Yeah, I- pfff, I don't, heh, I don't know what I was thinking-"

His thinking was cut off by the sound of retching from upstairs, coming from a girl with wavy, jet black hair vomiting into a flowery blue vase. (Different from the one that had been broken, same pattern, but different color.) Jenna was behind her, recording the sick girl on her phone in sadistic delight. "Eewww! Madeline, you wasted BITCH!" She laughed.

Oooohhhhhh, so THAT'S Madeline.

 

...

 

Anyway.

Jeremy and Christine looked back at each other, breaking into confused and semi-worried 'what the hell just happened' laughter. "Man, popular people are meeesssssed uuup!" The girl let out, starting to compose herself. The boy whistled knowingly. "Word."

"Sorry." She sighed, still amused. "I mean, you're one of them." Jeremy cocked his head at her in confusion. "What?" He asked. "No I'm not." Christine raised an eyebrow at him. "Uh, hello? Guy who's been pucking his way through the case of Midsummer's."

"Pucking?" He repeated.

"You like that? I just came up with it. Boo-yah."

Jeremy hummed an answer that wasn't really much of an answer. It wasn't something he quite knew how to respond to. He'd been having a long night, and he wasn't exactly sober yet. But he still knew that without the SQUIP's guidance, he would likely mess something up when talking to the 'girl of his dreams', so to speak. Really, his night had been a lot of confusion, hysterical fear, adrenaline, buzzed pining, second-guessing, yelling, and the start of a headache (which could be the result of all of the above) all rolled into the span of about 3 hours or so. Jeremy really just wanted to sit and not talk to anyone for a while, because all of his human interactions for the night were sour in some form or another. And if they weren't initially horrendous, they turned bitter or were going to become as much.

Christine took note of how quiet Jeremy was, pulling up her legs to be crossed on the couch. It almost seemed like it wouldn't work with her long, velvet dress, but the skirt hugged her knees and let her feet poke out of the bottom. "Hey..." She said gently. "You ok?"

'That depends on your definition of ok. I mean, if almost getting boned against your will, getting intoxicated against your will, almost getting murdered because of being wrongfully convicted of boning, and getting into a fight with your best friend who you also love in a completely non-platonic way in the bathroom counts as being ok, then yeah. Everything is just sugar and candy and everything friggin dandy.'

That's what Jeremy wanted to say, but he didn't end up saying it. Partially because it was already a mouth-full, mostly because he didn't have the energy or mental capacity to get into, like, any of it. He shrugged. "I just... Don't know what I'm supposed to say right now." It wasn't a lie.

"Just say whatever's on your mind."

That was considerably easier said than done. There was a lot on Jeremy's mind, picking just one thing would be a challenge to say the least. He could've said something about how Christine indirectly saved him by dumping Jake, leading him to go upstairs and not quite as indirectly interrupt Chloe's blatant sexual harassment toward Jeremy. He could've said that he stumbled into his former (almost definitely former now if tonight is any indicator) friend and long-time crush when he ran into the bathroom, then went on an emotional roller coaster through the duration of his stay. He could've said that some amount of his actions caused the shit to hit the fan because he was trying to act how he thought a computer implanted in his brain would want him to, which ended with him twisting the situation to make his crush look like the bad guy, and also deadpan, un-jokingly calling him a loser and leaving. He could've gone on about how much he'd began to realize that the previously mentioned computer probably shouldn't even be in him in the first place, but it is and he doesn't entirely know how to feel about that anymore, only knowing that he's questioning a lot of what's happened over the past two months. He could've said any number of things, and he thought long and hard about where he was even supposed to start.

He opened his mouth, and what came out was... Not any string of words that made any sense at all. In fact, it wasn't even words. Or sounds that sounded anything even vaguely like words. It was just. A noise. Something between an explosion and a really sad deflating balloon. With somewhat fitting hand gestures to go along with it. In all honesty, the sound did sum up the night pretty accurately. Although, that didn't stop Jeremy from cringing and internally smacking himself when it dawned upon him how stupid and weird what he 'said' was. He was about to double back on himself, until...

Christine made a different, equally strange noise. It was a bit more quizzical, as if asking Jeremy if he wanted to talk about it. He was surprised by her response... Well, generally. Mainly that she had responded at all, not negatively even, but in such a similar fashion as well. And since Jeremy wasn't complaining about any of that, he let another bizarre noise escape, mirroring the first one in more 'detail', you could say.

Before either of them knew it, they were speaking in a language that they didn't even fully understand. But they didn't really need to, because their lack of logic and understanding WAS their logic and understanding in a way. They didn't need to say any real words to run by the point that their enjoyment of the party was close to nonexistent.

The passed out dude on the couch unexpectedly joined their majestically meaningful conversation. He pretty much just screamed and fell on the ground, which was somewhat disturbing and mildly (extremely) discomforting. Then as if nothing happened, he stood up and walked into the wall, knocking himself out. For the second time, Christine and Jeremy looked to each other and laughed, with the latter stage-whispering to the former. "I think our friend over here partied a little too hardy."

"Word." She giggled, sighing. "You know, after the train wreck of a night I've had so far, I think I needed this." Christine smiled up at Jeremy. "So, thank you, it's been pretty killer to sit and chat with you. Even if we've only been here a few minutes."

Heheh, Heere.

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair. "Can't argue with ya there, it'd be nice if we could do stuff like this more often." He shrugged. "You know, minus the junky party and all." Christine nodded contently, before her face took on a more thoughtful look. "...Jeremy, are you...?" She started. "Did you just ask me out on a date?"

Jeremy's eyes widened a little. "...Did I???" Was he seriously accidentally smooth just then?? Holy shit, um, wow! And without the SQUIP too! He couldn't just pass this up, this was his chance! Don't screw it up, dude, seriously. You didn't bring it up, it wasn't your idea, don't make it sound like it was.

"I-I mean, the offer, uh... Stands? I guess?? If you want?" Jeremy stuttered. Christine blinked several times, demonstrating her amazing speech skills as well. "Wow, um... I-I'm sorry, Jeremy, I just... I can't, I'm sorry." Some odd part of Jeremy was relieved. "Ok yeah, um, I... I kinda didn't think so, but uh, just- just checking." He buzzed his lips, and Christine stood up, smoothing her dress down. "I need to go. And- that's not because of you! Really! It's- it's just getting late, and, I need to go."

Jeremy put his hands up defensively. "No that's fine! I totally get it! You- you go have fun... Er, um, whatever." Christine chuckled, on her way to the door. "Yeah, um. See you around?" She asked. "Yeah! Yeah, totally." Jeremy said with a small wave. "See ya."

Christine gave a semi-awkward smile before leaving the house. Jeremy fell back on the couch, heaving a loud sigh. That could've gone better. But then again, it also could've gone much, MUCH worse. So he couldn't complain as much as one might think he would want to.

"BAAAAAAAA CRASH!" Rich dived backward over the couch, imitating an exploding bomb with his head now dangling a few inches above the ground by Jeremy's feet. He turned his head around and looked up (or down?) at Jeremy. "...Got any Mountain Dew Red?" He asked.

The taller teen huffed. "Ok, this whole no-drinking-while-squipping thing? Would've been nice to know a little earlier, dontcha think?"

Rich's head turned again, hitching on someone as he backward summersaulted off the couch. He stood up and ran over to them. "Hey, HEY! Madeline! Madi! Mads! Got any-? Ok, gross. Barf in your hair. Anyway, Mountain Dew Red, PLEASE say you know where I can find some??"

"...Kay, bye, I guess..."

Jeremy fell back and laid across the couch, pulling on his hood as an attempt to block out some of the noise and pain constraining his brain. After talking to Madeline amongst her group of friends for a moment longer, and after the girl shook her head, Rich went off in some other direction. One guy hooked up his phone to a speaker and began playing a song that drew a few hell yes...es from the group, to which Jenna immediately pulled out her phone again, ready to record Madeline again.

Just about anyone would recognize the song in a heartbeat, and Jeremy was no exception. He watched as the girl took off her stilettos and sang into the heel of one as if it were a microphone, reaching the chorus and waving everyone else to sing along too.

"Ooh, I wanna dance with somebody!~"

Jeremy chuckled under his breath, immediately feeling the amusement disappear out of thin air. There was a joke someone could've made there, something about alcohol bestowing confidence upon the hearts of the stupid, or something to that effect. It made him sad knowing that there wasn't someone to make that joke actually sound funny, and that he couldn't work off of that somehow. So much potential to make fun of the inhibitions of a girl going away and making her sing along to Whitney Houston gone to waste.

"Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody!~"

No, he didn't really want to dance with anyone. Mostly, he wanted a hug. Like a two hour long hug from one specific person. And he knew better than anyone that he didn't really deserve a hug from that person, or any person for that matter. What reason did he have to be hugged by anyone? No one pitied him, and no one had any reason to. No one knew what happened in the bedroom. No one knew what happened in the bathroom. No one knew and no one cared. Why should they? They've got their own problems and their own wasted friends to worry about. God, this sucks. Being alone sucks. Being alone at a PARTY sucks. What point is there in trying to have a good time if there's no one there to have a good time and be an idiot with? Why go anywhere or do anything if you know that no one will be there to appreciate your presence? At that point, you're just a waste of space, because nobody knows or cares about you. Nobody's expecting you or missing you or anything. Nobody could care either way if you were with them or not and oh God, this is exactly what Michael must've felt like... And after finally meeting up with someone that did care about him, that person didn't listen to him, guilt tripped him, yelled at him, called him a loser and left. It wasn't the first time Jeremy called Michael a loser, no, not at all. But all those times were when they were playing games. All those times were when Michael made a dumb joke. All those times were when Jeremy caught Michael secretly recording him doing something embarrassing. All those times were meant as a joke. All those times were meant as a term of endearment. But this time, this one time, Jeremy said it, and he actually meant it. But he didn't really mean it. He meant it as a way to hurt Michael. Except he didn't really. He just wanted to get out of the stupid bathroom before he did something stupid... after ALREADY doing something stupid. Worse, AS he was doing something even more stupid!

Jeremy jolted up off the couch, ducking between Madeline and Jenna and pushing through everyone else to get to the goddamn bathroom because holy shit, he messed up BAD. He had tried to get himself out of the bathroom before he had a chance of screwing something up. And he did get out... One word too late. No, more like an entire rant too late. However late he was, he needed to go back and try to make it right, or at the very least explain himself. He finally squeezed through and fell onto the door, hastily knocking on it.

 

Knock knock knock knock

 

He waited for a moment, but wasn't met with a voice or even a sound. Part of him wanted to shout, say that it was him and that he was a total idiot. Say he was really sorry and actually really wanted to hear Michael out. He wanted to know whatever else he found out from his Warcraft buddy about the SQUIP. He wanted to make things better for himself and for Michael. And if that means the SQUIP is compromised, then so be it.

 

Knock knock knock knock

 

Please, please be out soon, or let him in. Or hell, just have a conversation through the door because you can't stand to look at him right now for being the scum of the earth, that's fine too. Totally fine, totally and 100% understandable, please just respond. Even if it's a groan or a painfully accurate and timely insult or quip, anything is better than nothing. Just give a sign that you're in there and you can hear.

 

Knock knock knock knock

 

It sucks you were left to be alone for so long, it really does. You didn't deserve that, you really, REALLY didn't. It wasn't because of anything you did wrong, honest. You're not at fault in the slightest. This was entirely outside of your will and control. This was not your mistake, you are not the problem. You were the solution to the problem, and it isn't your fault that you were ignored. It isn't your fault that you were subjected to radio silence. There was no reason for you to be treated so poorly. You don't need to be alone anymore, just open the door and listen if you're in there. Please. Please say you're still in there. Please still be in there.

 

Knock knock knock knock

 

You didn't deserve to be caught up in this teenage battle zone, it's an absolute hellhole that you shouldn't have to deal with alone. You should be able to say and do what you want happily and not worry about what others think of you or if your interests aren't up to some stupid social par. You deserve someone you should be able to share those interests with without any fear of judgement or ill intent. You deserve someone by your side who'll be there for you. You deserve someone who's gonna watch your back through thick and thin. You deserve someone who'll listen to your stupid thoughts and jokes when it's well past midnight and there's school the next morning. You deserve a 7-Eleven companion to buy a bunch of junk food and play video games with. You deserve someone to get so stoned with that you can't even read by the time you're done with your blunts. And if someone pounding desperately on the door with all the fear and worry in the world for you isn't going to convince you to have someone be that for you, what for? Why won't you let it be known that you deserve better than what you've been going through since almost the beginning of September? You deserve better. You deserve the best that the world can offer. You deserve every little thing that makes you even the most insignificant amount of happy. You deserve somebody who'll be there to make you laugh, who'll listen to your rants, who'll break into hopeless hysterics over your stupidest of jokes, who'll be your shoulder to cry on, who'll sing to the radio hilariously off-key with you, who'll let you know how much you matter to them and how much their life would suck without you.

You deserve...

 

 

  
Somebody better than Jeremy.

 

 

  
Somebody who won't leave at the drop of a hat.

 

"Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody!~"

 

Somebody who loves you.

 

Madeline fell off the table that she had apparently stood on while in the midst of her singing, and was carried away by someone that was referred to as Dustin. The entire friend group that had gathered agreed it was about time they head home, and Jeremy was left in the hallway to watch them pile out of the door while recounting the events of the night. He glanced back at the door that his slack fist was now falling off of, fingers slowly straightening out and brushing down on the wood before finally sliding off completely.

And for a moment, he just stared, as if looking at the door long enough would make it creak open and allow him the hug that he felt in desperate need of. He wasn't knocking anymore, and the lack of any indication of a person inside settled heavily in his chest. He felt his forehead softly thump against the door, soon followed by his shoulder as he sank down to the carpeted ground as his ear pressed against it as well. Then the hot tears blazed down his cheeks, not accompanied by any harsh sobs or shaking shoulders. Michael already left, the damage was done, and Jeremy couldn't do anything about it except hug himself and silently cry under his hoodie and behind his messy hair. He was physically and emotionally tired, the entire night had been one of the worst in his life, his head hurt, he hurt generally and he just wanted to go home.

The back of Jeremy's head buzzed and a mass of blue particles formed a humanoid figure.

"Hello, Jeremy." It said.

Jeremy wiped at his face, slowly feeling 100 times more annoyed at everything. "Took ya long enough."

"My absence was not ideal, but it was necessary. One moment while I access the data from tonight." Oh great, just what we need right now. A slap-in-the-face reminder of the entirety of the night's events. A moment passed. "Oh my..."

Jeremy pulled the drawstrings on his hoodie while he cringed. "It's baaaaaaaad..."

Urgency came into the SQUIP's voice. "We need to get you out, now."

"Uh... I don't think I can write my name, much less get myself home..."

"What do you think you have me for? Now come on."

He suddenly sprung up off the ground and made a beeline for the front door.

The last thing Jeremy remembered was walking into his room while taking off his shoes, hoodie, and pants, then falling head first into a bundle of fleece and instantly falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long. The other day, I saw this get 903 hits and I thought "holy shit, that's almost a thousand." Now there are more. And yeah. Slight inspiration from "Michael (and Jeremy) in the Bathroom" by atlas-of-galaxies (I think, I'm writing this at almost midnight, I could be wrong.) Next chapter SHOULDN'T take as long! Promise!


	15. The Pitiful Hangover Hour: Act One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy hates everything. Shifting perspectives. Someone beautiful makes a cameo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aahhhh I was talking about this getting over 900 hits in the other notes now it has over 1000??? I'm not words??? Thanks so much???

Needless to say, Jeremy was not the slightest bit in the mood to get up the next morning. Nobody was technically making him, but his body woke him up at the ungodly time of 5:27 AM. Not only that, but it refused to let him fall back asleep despite him basically passing out upon getting home after the party. It was painful trying to think about nothing and sleep when he just hurt all over. He felt weirdly sore, which didn't make any sense seeing as how he barely did anything physical the previous night. True, he did dance a bit, before the shit hit the fan. He put up a fight getting Chloe off of him, as the shit was hitting the fan. He ran downstairs after Jake made his death threat, after the shit hit the fan, but before an entirely new excrement-making-contact-with-the-rotary series of events. Honestly, the entire night had been a bunch of people collectively throwing shit at a fan on the highest setting. But those things didn't even make up half of the party or even the night, so really, why did it feel like he tried and brutally failed to suplex Mount Everest? Maybe he just didn't WANT to move, and his brain tricked him into thinking that it was because he actively moved around a lot more on Halloween than he actually did.

He tried really hard not to look at his clock again, he truly did. He knew checking the time didn't help anything, and that it would only make trying to sleep harder. He knew his best bet was to lay there with his eyes closed until he drifted off, but Jeremy had to take a quick peek. 5:31. He curled in on himself slightly more, giving an audible display of displeasure while burying his face in the bunched up wad of blanket in his arms. He was tempted to grab a bottle of NyQuil and down two or three doses, but aside from that stuff tasting like death, he'd have to go downstairs and search the kitchen cabinets for it.

Which he wasn't about to do because 1.) That would require him moving, which he wasn't doing. 2.) He would have to put forth the effort to find the cold medicine by searching through an undetermined number of cupboards, which seemed like more effort than it'd be worth, but also required moving, and 3.) Getting out of bed required moving, which he wasn't doing (for reasons other than the bed cocooning him in blankets), going downstairs required moving, foraging through cabinets required moving, really, have we been over the fact that Jeremy doesn't want to move or do anything? Like, at all? Can't he just drift off peacefully among his blankets and pillows until 5:45 PM?

(Yes, twelve hours minimum.)

"Get up, Jeremy."

Jeremy groaned groggily from behind his blanket. "What fooooor...?" The voice in his head was the exact thing he didn't need right now. Knowing his luck, it was probably the thing keeping him awake. If it had access to his optic nerves, memories and countless other shit, it most likely had access to whatever was preventing his brain from letting him sleep.

It was important that Jeremy get up quickly, time was of the essence. There was a small window of opportunity that he had to take advantage of, and all he needed to know was that he needed to move quickly. In today's case, appearance wasn't even a contributing factor, which would likely be a relief to him. "Put on some clothes, you're going out." The voice said sternly. It knew this exchange could go one of a few ways, and it wanted to ensure it went the 'right' way.

The SQUIP gave no real reasoning in its command, and although Jeremy somewhat consciously knew it'd be better if he'd just comply and not ask questions, he felt no desire to deal with the computer's shenanigans. Or anything, as previously implied. "You can't trick me, you piece of shit, it's Sunday..." He didn't look up at any manifestation that may or may not have materialized in his room, only blindly flipping the bird to whoever would see it.

Definitely not a favorable response. However, this could act as a test to see if its host was conscious enough to recall certain information. Namely, the passage of time, so the SQUIP used this in some small way. "Oh? And how are you so sure?" But Jeremy knew that scare tactic and he wasn't going to fall for it. He wasn't going to let the SQUIP trick him into thinking that he had to go to school. And even if he was going to, his apathy was too damn high for him to want to do anything about it. If that makes any sense. It probably doesn't, but whatever.

"Because it's Sunday." He repeated in annoyance. "Yesterday was Halloween, today is November 1st." Elaboration was something the computer was picky about, so Jeremy made sure to include it to appease its needs, if groggily and semi-slurred. "And I know it's Sunday because the play's opening night is the day before Friday the 13th. Of November. Aka, this month. So unless this is a matter of life and death, piss off and lemme sleep."

The SQUIP anticipated the teen's resistance as a possible outcome, and it knew that he would either eventually give in after some persuasion, or not. How much persuasion would be needed varied, but the bare minimum is always a good place to start. "Jeremy, if you want your life to improve, you will have to put on some pants, any will do, and go outside."

"I'm sick." Jeremy groaned.

"You aren't sick."

"I'm hungover. I hurt. I don't wanna do anything anytime anywhere ever again." Jeremy didn't uncover his face or even move while making his defiant excuses, he would clearly much rather wallow in his bed than listen to the super computer or anyone else. "I'm. Sick." He ended, as if he expected the SQUIP to accept the statement and leave him alone.

He didn't, however, account for the fact that the SQUIP knew him better than he knew himself. A mistake humans commonly made was misunderstanding their own feelings and needs, and Jeremy was no exception. He may have even been the perfect example of such. "You are not sick, Jeremy, you are emotionally exhausted." The CPU said matter-of-factly. "If I had emotions, I would be too after how last night ended."

"Ugh, spare me your pity..."

"And who said I was pitying you?"

"You did. Er, kinda..." Another common mistake, misreading what others mean in what they say. "And I don't need it, I need you to stop making my life a total dumpster fire if you'd be so kind..." The teen pulled his comforter over his head, hugging the blanket wad in his arms tighter.

So this wouldn't be as easy as what would be ideal, but there was still a chance at success. It wasn't as if this wasn't expected, it was to some degree, it just wasn't favorable. And it wasn't as if Jeremy was acting stubbornly for no reason. All these things were expected, none were, however, acceptable. "I understand how it is." The SQUIP said, almost in a cocky way. "You don't trust me."

"How can I after the shit you pulled last night?" Jeremy almost yelled, though his voice was still muffled by his pillows and covers. "Thanks for that by the way, dick." He added bitterly.

"Halloween night did not go ideally-"

"Psh, ya think?"

"But do know that it was not my fault, and you cannot blame me for YOUR mistakes." Jeremy took on an accusative and slightly more betrayed inflection. "You willingly disabled yourself, fully knowing what would happen. How exactly is that NOT your fault?"

The blame game, typical. Antagonizing others before hearing their side of the story. Human error always had to be taken into account, some humans were worse than others. Yet under normal circumstances, Jeremy wouldn't be so hostile. But his expectations for the SQUIP led him to think that IT was the one to blame and not him. Truth be told, he was wasting his own opportunities, the SQUIP was not taking them away. In fact, it had been very generous with second chances, more than it should have been, all things considered. It was going by its programming and was doing everything it could to do its job and fulfill its purpose. Though it would help if Jeremy wasn't so ignorant.

"I can see probable futures, Jeremy, not THE future. Events are always subject to change. There were many delicate variables that were not properly accounted for in my absence." The SQUIP scolded as if it were telling Jeremy for the thousandth time. Time was running out, and Jeremy was showing no signs of complying. "Much in the same way that there are delicate variables NOW. So get up. And get ready. To go." The boy huffed. "Can you at least tell me where?"

"I don't understand the question."

"Tell me where you want me to be going exactly. And for once, can you tell me WHY I'm supposed to do as you say?"

"I cannot."

"Can not or will not?"

The computer gave off the impression of exasperation. "Both, Jeremy. If I tell you those details, the proper events will not take place." Jeremy scoffed. "And what are those?"

"I cannot tell you."

"Why not?"

One would say the SQUIP was desperately taking risky steps to get the desired results. It knew that the longer it tried to convince Jeremy, the less likely he would be to obey. It was walking on thin ice, so now, he had to be treated like a child. "Have you ever heard of this little thing called the butterfly effect?" The SQUIP asked him condescendingly. "A simple action, such as telling you why you should obey me, can have major consequences on how you will react and how your future actions will be affected. So, although I recognize your desire to know where you are going and why, it is imperative that you remain unaware."

"Then what reason do I have to go?" Jeremy snapped sourly. "You'll see Michael." The SQUIP answered near immediately. Again, in false desperation.

"Oh great! What am I gonna do this time, beat him senseless and spit on him?!" The teen planted his face hard into his pillow, still a tense lump under the covers. His emotional exhaustion was heavily connected to Michael, for completely understandable reasons. Aside from meeting up with him on not very good terms, Jeremy listened to what he mistook for better judgment when interacting with him. Smart in theory though it was to act how the SQUIP would instruct, it wasn't what was smart in that time and place. Then after realizing this ten minutes too late, he didn't get an answer to his panicked knocking. His intended apology went unforgiven in his mind, which wasn't technically untrue, but by no means was that the whole story. There was so much he didn't know about the other side of that door, but telling him would be pointless and self-destructive. All he needed to know was the here and now.

"Your distrust is justifiable, I am not denying that." The SQUIP said, almost softening, yet not quite. "But it is entirely unnecessary. Now why don't you make this easier for everyone, and quit your godforsaken stubbornness and whining." The second half of the sentence went up in volume.

"No."

"Jeremy."

"NO."

"Cooperate, Jeremy."

"Why should I trust you with your Super Quantum Useless Intel Processor?!"

"Super Quantum UNIT Intel Processor."

"Thame sing!"

"Thame sing." The SQUIP repeated in a 'really?' tone. Wondering what was wrong with what he said, Jeremy thought over his words a moment, before realizing the mistake in his speech and correcting himself. "Same thing." He spat, both as a correction and a response. Damn spoonerisms.

Spoonerisms.

Spooner.

Spoons.

Spooning.

ZAP

Jeremy jolted, partially untangling himself from the fleece in his arms and wrapped around his middle. "OOW! FINE!" He smacked the pillow his face wasn't buried in, punctuating each statement with the sound of the disturbed fabric. "Everything about me is terrible, everything about me makes me wanna die, are you happy?! WHAT." Smack. "Do you want." Smack. "From me?!" Smack.

The SQUIP rolled its eyes. "I am not capable of experiencing human emotions. But if I was, I would be beyond impatient and infuriated with you." It spoke to him in a way that sounded as much like it truly felt the way it described: impatient and infuriated. "Understand that if you are not out the front door by 5:47 AM exactly, your goal will be several times more difficult to accomplish. So, Jeremiah, I highly suggest you do as I say." The SQUIP sounded like a strict and unforgiving parent, especially when using Jeremy's first name in full.

'So it's acting like it's my dad.' He'd subconsciously thought, figuring that if he was going to be treated like a child, then he should act like one; A stubborn little kid that would stand their ground if it killed them, mostly to prove something, only the slightest bit for spite. "Oh yeah?" He asked. "And what if I don't?" His own voice sang back. "Just clear your GAY brain and move ahead."

Jeremy threw the blanket off his head, whipping around to the noise and forgetting his defiance. "OKAY, if you're going to use that impulse project against me, at least use the right words!" He scowled at the SQUIP's version of his image, feeling infinitely spited himself. He had thought something along the lines of 'two can play at that game', forgetting that the voice LITERALLY in his head had some semblance of an advantage. He tried not to elaborate on the thought of 'two' and 'playing games' whilst remembering this.

The object of his torment stared back for a few beats before rolling its eyes begrudgingly. "Accept that you're one of those..." It leaned closer to the teen for emphasis. "GUYS..." It leaned back before finishing the lyric. "Who'll be a virgin 'til he dies."

"Thank you!" Jeremy exasperated, rolling on his side away from the SQUIP. "And I already have, didn't even need your help for that either!" His techno twin folded its arms curtly. "I prefer the way 'guys' rhymes with 'dies' better anyway."

"Yeah? What were you gonna say instead? No, wait, don't tell me..."

"Gays." He said in unison with the SQUIP.

"Yeah, I figured..."

The computer, now looking and sounding like itself (or Keanu Reeves, more accurately), continued testing its host. They would miss their special opportunity in a few moments, four minutes to be exact. The SQUIP knew that even if Jeremy was outside in that time, none of the projected futures would help in the long run. Or at all really. It was not its fault that he insisted on ruining his own life, Jeremy needed to know that. "You can hardly be mad at me, you said those things about yourself." Because he was punishing himself, he might as well get a punishment from the one trying to help him. Realizing that certain other futures could potentially take place, it decided it would play 'that card.' "If I truly wanted to torture you, I could bring up the absence of your mother."

Jeremy remained with his back to the manifestation, seeming unfazed by the very real threat. "Go right ahead, see if I care." There was some weight to his defiance. If he was simply met with memories of his mother, no, he wouldn't have cared. There weren't many distinct, much less truly good or bad memories of the woman anyway. He really wouldn't have felt the slightest bit of grievance or sadness.

Although...

"Jeremy, you don't understand."

What would come after those four words would send a shiver down the teen's spine.

"I don't just mean your mother."

The voice, particularly.

Jeremy's head shot off of his pillow in shock, seeing exactly what he was hoping he wouldn't: Michael. The SQUIP waved, smirking. Save for the chromatic scales of generally blue and grey tones, it had replicated his image perfectly. All the patches on the hoodie in all the right places, all the pen marks on the sides of the soles of Michael's shoes from bored scribbling, the posture, the hands in the pockets, the placement of the headphones, it looked like the real deal. Except for the fact that it very clearly wasn't, it was the SQUIP impersonating him like it impersonated the Canadian actor. "I mean memories surrounding the events of her too." Michael's voice once again, only in a tone so bitter that the room grew ten degrees colder. Which contrasted heavily against the cocky grin spread across its face.

Jeremy scowled hard, barely speaking above a resentful whisper. "Oh that is low, even for you..." Michael - no, the SQUIP AS Michael - shrugged knowingly. "And you thought shattering a mirror during a panic attack was bad." The boy in his bed flinched the slightest amount, expression barely flickering from embittered to morose. "Oh you remember that, don't you?" The computer teased in a singsong kind of way. It didn't need to ask, why would it?

It knew he remembered.

The teen's breath hitched as he shifted hurriedly to lay back down, hugging the fleece blanket (now also partially draped over his shoulders) of a cartoon Marvel character flicking through a box labeled as 'Comiks' once again. He was inadvertently trying to block out the computer and the memory by curling up under the blankets, squeezing his eyes shut. "I know, I know." The voice said in forged pity. "You try not to." It did know, and it knew well. It knew every little bit of how Jeremy was feeling, not in an empathetic way. "Oh but Jeremy, I could've done so, sooo much worse." Michael's voice crooned.

"Get out of my head..." The boy's voice was shaky and quiet, yet demanding as he continued to shake like a leaf. The SQUIP made a betrayed noise as it continued to mock him. "Wow, rude much? C'mon, Jer, I'm your best friend."

"No you're not." His voice cracked on the last word, choking back the increasing strain in his throat. "You're just using him against me." A laugh that would normally float warmly through the air scraped against every surface of the bedroom like a freezing icicle. "Guilty as charged." SQUIP Michael winked, causing Jeremy to stiffen. He couldn't see the impersonator, but knowing who would be standing in his room should he choose to open his eyes was enough to make his stomach twist into a million knots and then some.

A more quiet, yet equally room-chilling chuckle escaped into the air. "You know, that blanket is actually really fitting for you, especially now." 'Michael' pointed out, pretending to be reading the twisted-around text, which clearly wasn't even legible in its current state. It was a play on words, referring to the box of comics in front of the merc with a mouth. "'I have issues', ha. You have a lot of issues, Jeremy. Far too many to name off." The boy shuddered, still using all his will power to ignore the increasing amount of taunts being thrown his way. "It's true! I could sit here rattling on for hours and still not even scratch the surface!" The SQUIP laughed.

Jeremy spoke up pleadingly, only just above a whisper. "Everything about me is pathetic, everything about me makes everything around me want to die. I get it, just leave me alone..." His voice faltered, using one simple, six letter word as a last ditch effort. "Please..."

And for a moment, there was silence. The unease didn't disappear. In fact, it only grew ever stronger with seemingly no reaction from the computer whatsoever. Desperately hoping for nothing to come and fearfully anticipating something at the same time, Jeremy shut his eyes tighter if it was even possible.

 

At first, nothing.

 

 

  
And then.

 

 

  
Everything.

 

Everything the SQUIP had shot through him faster than a bullet, more painful than any on Earth. Stemming from his spine into all parts of his body was nothing but endless pain but for a few seconds. And in between segments of yelling, belittling, scolding, the embodiment of pure disappointment and anger, it came again and again, each time for a few moments more than the last. The pain was so much, Jeremy had to bite back any and all anguished sounds that he wanted to let out. The glitchy voice did not truly belong to anyone, not quite the SQUIP or Michael or Jeremy or anyone. It was everyone's voice and nobody's.

It was warbling static.

"You were nothing before you had me, Jeremy, nothing! You haven't the slightest clue how lucky you are that I'm even here. But you, you are just an ungrateful bastard with no idea and no care for how much I am sticking my neck out for you!"

Part of Jeremy wanted to apologize profusely to make the rage in the mess of a voice go away, the other part wanted to scream and yell and flail to make everything stop. He couldn't do either, no punches he wanted to throw would connect to the SQUIP and no amount of pleading would tug at any of its nonexistent heart strings. He wished there was something he could do, another part of him just accepted that he would live in constant fear of what the computer would do to him for the rest of his life. Even if there was a way for him to fight back, the SQUIP would be able to stop him before he was able to fully formulate a plan or even the vague idea of one.

Both parties knew this.

"I read you like a book. I have access to all the files in your brain that make you who you are, I could bring your absolute worst nightmares to life."

It was the least of his problems, but he couldn't let the admitted invasion of privacy go. "Quit snooping around my files." The teen hissed.

Bad idea.

The pain only became more unbearable, making him feel like he was in the grasp of the spawn of a hundred boa constrictors and electric eels. Jeremy swore he'd see lightning bolts to go along with the white noise if he opened his eyes. He truly felt like he was on the wrong end of a lightning storm, forgetting entirely that it was early in the morning and that he should be wary of waking neighbors, or hell, his own father.

"I don't have to give you this much room for error. I don't have to give you all you desire and more. I could leave you more emotionally and mentally scarred than any being on this entire godforsaken planet."

Most of the words from that point on were drowned out by just everything, but a single sentence stood out above all the rest. "I could make your life a living hell."

The teen knew there was nothing he could do to will the SQUIP to stop, yet he couldn't help but let a few more drops of anger drip into the ocean of pure, ugly pain, pain, pain he was engulfed and on the brink of drowning in. "You already have." Jeremy choked out, breathy and all consonants.

All there was after that was laughter - no, cackling - buzzing and crackles and warbled noise. All it was was just noise, sadistic and unforgiving. Until it all began to narrow down into a single voice again. "Oh sweet summer child, you haven't seen anything."

And it just had to be Michael's.

"You know as well as I do that those memories that played in the school bathroom? Those weren't even all the most sentimental or emotion-driven ones I could've chosen." Jeremy was still being choked by the aftermath of the shocks, occasionally twitching at nothing and trying to grab any semblance of a breath he could. All this while an all too familiar teenager's voice jabbed at him, intentionally doing everything to tip Jeremy over the edge. "I could show all of them to you right now. In fact, I just might."

It all became too much, just too much. It had all gathered as the tightest pain in his chest that he had ever felt in his life. If last night was the worst he had ever felt emotionally, this morning was the worst and most in pain he had been physically. He wanted to scream and just make it all disappear. He hated it, he wanted it gone but it wouldn't go away and it was threatening to squeeze all the life out of him until he just couldn't take it anymore and until there were large cracks and the dam was dangerously close to breaking and flooding the entire room with agony and then-

 

 

  
All it was, was a hiccup.

 

 

  
And then a sniffle.

 

 

  
And just.

 

 

  
Tears.

 

And from that point, all Jeremy could do was cave in. Shaky and broken, he could only let the soft fleece gently brush against his face.

"Aww damn. Those were the tear ducts, weren't they?" Michael's voice teased, adding on more cold as ice laughter until it was the SQUIP showing its amusement toward itself. "Oh well, they get the point across well enough." Then all the amusement went away as soon as its tone dropped low. "But just so we're clear, I hold your very life in my hands. You do not want to cross me. Do as I say, or else you will have to pay the price. This. Is strike two."

And that was that.

 

It had gotten its point across.

 

Jeremy had been effectively shut up.

Deciding it had done its job as close to successfully as possible, the SQUIP looked at the current time. 6:00 AM. Late by a long shot. Nothing more to be done. With a sense of finality, it began to analyze possible futures, contemplating what it would need to research for each of them. All came back to one key period: Jeremy's early elementary school memories. It promptly began its journey through the endless array of files, ranging from long-term memories such as how to write to insignificant details and thoughts that no one would have any reason to remember, but Jeremy did.

As to be expected, there were few, if any memories that one Michael Mell was not somehow linked to, even in the smallest, most indistinguishable or barely-even-reasonable way. Ranging from the boy being the only thing on Jeremy's mind regardless of whether or not they were even in the same place, to a simple passing 'Michael would like this' or 'that's kinda like when Michael did' blank. All of the happy moments, all of the dark moments, going backwards from the train wreck that was last night. Passing Michael's weariness of Jeremy getting a SQUIP in the first place, passing the summer before sophomore year, from the third week to the first day of freshman year, passing concerts and sleepovers and birthday parties and panic attacks and injuries until-

 

 

  
One of, if not, the most significant and prominent memory in all of Jeremy's life.

One of very, VERY few bittersweet memories. And it was truly few, the quantity could be counted on one hand. Being both bitter and sweet for multiple reasons, it was what flipped the switch in Jeremy's life. What would be the root of the teen's anxiety, the beginning of his self-esteem issues. Yet also, the root of his only and longest-running companionship. Not the fateful day it started in daycare, no, but when it became clear just how close the two would become over the years, and how much they cared for one another. Short of being a decade ago, one year, six months, three weeks and three days short to be exact. The event itself took place eight years, five months, and seven days ago, near the end of May. First grade was on the cusp of its final week and final days.

A look back at Jeremy, present-day Jeremy, the sight of a sixteen year old boy curled up into a terrified and barely audibly sobbing ball left only one word for him to be described as: pathetic. Totally worthless in every way. He knew it and the SQUIP knew it. Very little in his life made him seem like he could equate to much. It wasn't true pity or sorrow or any other emotion that brought the SQUIP to do what it did. In fact, it was quite reluctant in its doings. Everything about Jeremy was completely and utterly pitiful. Looking back at the memories, everything that had gone on in his short existence, it decided that this was, logically, the absolute bare minimum the boy deserved. His whole life had been nothing but the physical embodiment of the entire world minus one single person collectively spitting on him. Well, two actually, but regardless. The least he could get was a semi-sweet memory to softly play out as he cried himself to sleep.

So there it was planted.

 

~~~

 

May 25, 2007

 

A softly setting sun, turning the sky various shades of orange and pink, much like the blossoms on the dark chocolate-colored branches of the orchard trees all around. A shallow hill with a small pond at the base and a shady tree on top. Dragonflies buzzing around the clear water and crickets chirping softly.

Big blue eyes, light messy hair, a soft, pale face smattered from temple to temple with freckles, and a chipped front tooth. Overalls with holes in the knees, a Gameboy Advance in one of the oversized pockets, a striped shirt, and dirt-stained socks housed in red converse.

Toffee brown eyes, dark spiked hair, and band aids over scraped knees. A hand-me-down jacket, a Pac-Man t-shirt, worn out sneakers, and glasses that are just a little too big for the wearer's face.

The parents of each of the pair along with one's babysitter, leaning against their cars parked on the side of the winding country road, talking. About what, they wouldn't let the children fully know. They deserved to know, or one of them did at least, but more than anything, it was one bearded man in denial that could hardly handle it. He was met with reassuring hands on his shoulder, offering help wherever possible.

Two small collections of rocks sat in the grass next to the two boys, waiting to be picked up and thrown into the pond. Being just under eight years old, neither one really knew how to skip rocks or even what rocks would be optimal for such, but throwing them into the water and hearing the proceeding 'plop' was still fun and satisfying to them. They kept themselves entertained as the adults talked about adult stuff.

Jeremy, having finished tossing the rocks he'd gathered, took a moment to take in the sounds of the spring evening. "That's weird..." He hummed, mostly to himself. Michael turned to him curiously. "What's weird?"

"There are crickets out, but it's not nighttime yet."

After throwing his last rock into the pond, he glanced around, hearing the soft chirps of the insects. "Huh... You're right." Jeremy shrugged. "That's not a bad thing. I like crickets, they're not as annoying as other louder bugs." Michael giggled a little. "Yeah, I can say I definitely like crickets more than sick aids."

Jeremy turned to the older boy in confusion. "More than what?" He asked. "You know, sick aids. The ones that look kinda like crickets, excepts they're bigger and they make this really annoying buzzing sound."

Jeremy wrinkled his nose a little, sitting down. "You mean cicadas?" Michael turned around and gave his friend a strange look. "Yeah, that's what I said." The boy shook his head. "Nuh-uh. You said sick aids, Michael."

"Whatever, I was close!" Jeremy smiled at Michael's mild fluster as his friend continued on. "And I wish they didn't come out of the ground so close to when our birthdays are."

"Me too, but we can't really tell them to wait around, huh?"

"We can try!" The boy crouched down and practically stuck his nose in the dirt. "Hey, cicadas!" He called. "Can you wait until like July to come out? You usually come out of the ground really close to me and Jeremy's birthdays, so could you just wait a bit? Please?"

Michael giggled a bit before looking back up at his friend. "C'mon, Jeremy, help me out!" The younger boy was paying no attention to the other, instead looking to the left where the adults were while his arms hung loosely around his knees. "Um... Jeremy? Are you ok?"

When Jeremy didn't answer, Michael went up to him on his hands and knees. "Helloooooo? Earth to Jeremy, come in Jeremy!" He waved a hand in his face before Jeremy blinked himself back into his friend's company. "Oh, um... I'm fine."  
He said blankly. The older boy was just a little less than convinced. "You sure?" He asked.

"Y-yeah, yeah..."

Michael frowned. "You stuttered."

"What? N-no I didn't."

"See? You did it again."

"But I-I didn't-..." He stopped, sighing in defeat. "Fine... Maybe I did..." Michael took a second to smile at his victory before realizing Jeremy wasn't smiling along with him. "Is... Something wrong?" He asked carefully.

Jeremy looked back at his dad and Michael's parents in silence for a moment before returning his gaze to his friend, and then down to the grass in front of him. "I think my mom is leaving forever... And she's not coming back..." He muttered, picking out some of the green blades and tearing them in half. Michael cocked his head at Jeremy. "How do you know?"

"I don't know, I just think that's what's happening. Cuz, well..." The pale boy teased at the greenery between his fingers for a moment. "Dad isn't really acting like she'll be back in a few days or whatever. Or from what I've seen." He let go of the torn up grass blades in his hand, letting the warm breeze carry them away. "He kinda... I don't know, it just feels like she isn't coming back. And... I think... It's my fault."

Michael was physically taken aback, wearing the most confused look ever. "What???" He squawked. "Why?" Jeremy shrugged defensively. "I mean... I don't know, I just don't think she liked me all that much."

This was clearly news to Michael, as he was acting as though he'd been told that there isn't actually a fairy that takes teeth out from under kids' pillows. "What makes you think that?" Jeremy began idly popping each of his knuckles with his thumb, not looking at Michael.

"Well..." He started, not quite seeming to know for himself. "When I come home from school everyday, Dad is still at work, and it's just Mom in the house. Or, that's how it was before it was Ronnie, I guess. So after I finished my homework, I'd ask her if she wanted to play Bubble Bobble or if I could go to your house or something, but she would just ignore me and keep doing her word puzzles. Maybe..."

Having cracked all his knuckles, Jeremy then began to pick at his fingernails. Michael looked at him expectantly. "Maybe what...?" After a moment of hesitance, he answered. "...Maybe she got annoyed with me asking her to play a bunch and left. Cuz she finally got sick of it..."

The very idea sounded ludicrous to Michael, making him scoff. "Dude, no way. That can't be it." Jeremy raised a worried eyebrow at him. "Michael, I can't remember the last time she smiled at me. I... Don't really think she ever liked me... Or if she did, I did something to make her hate me. I-I don't know."

Realizing that Jeremy thought this was a real possibility, Michael pulled back on his confidence. "Did she ever act like she was mad at you for something? Or ask you to stop or something?"

"Well... No, but maybe she was just really good at pretending. Mostly, she acted like she was just... Bored? I think? And when I'm bored, I play games, so I thought she would like that."

At this point, Jeremy was speaking faster and sounding quite a bit more frantic. "But maybe a long time ago, she told me not to ask her to play. And I was supposed to remember that, but I forgot and it's one of those, 'I'm only going to say this once' kind of things. Like there's stuff I'm supposed to know, but I-I just don't know."

Michael gave a worried look. "You're saying 'I don't know' a lot." He was met back with frustration directed at no one in particular. "Because I don't know! It's just-! Argh! No one will tell me! And- and I think it's cuz they don't wanna hurt my feelings, but just-!"

Falling on his back onto the plush hill, Jeremy's hands slapped over his face, muffling his strained voice. "Ugghhhh, I just don't knoooooow!" Michael winced a bit, worried that his best friend would start crying given the redness around his eyes and cheeks. "Jeremy, I think you're letting your imagination get the better of you."

Jeremy swiped his hands over his eyes, sniffling and giving Michael a perplexed look. "Letting my... Get the bet... What?"

"I heard my dad say it once." The older boy began. "It means you're letting your imagination go crazy and it's making you think a lot of things that don't make sense." The younger boy's shoulders fell as he looked at his friend helplessly. "But my imagination is the best thing I have. I keep trying to ask Dad about Mom, but he won't tell me. I tried asking Ronnie, but she said she doesn't know either."

Jeremy sat up a bit more, returning to the balled up position behind his knees. "And I'm sure that's what all the grown ups are talking about and they don't want us to hear. Or... They don't want ME to hear. Nick's over there, he's probably gonna tell you all about it and tell you to keep it a secret from me..."

Michael glanced at his parents and Jeremy's father, seeing his older brother sitting in the passenger seat of his mother's car. He didn't seem very interested in their conversation, lip syncing to whatever was playing on the radio. He looked back at his best friend, who's nose had since been planted between his somewhat bare knees.

Before Jeremy could say another word, he was startled by the sound of shifting grass followed by an arm draped over his shoulders. "Well..." Came Michael's soft voice. "I don't know what's happening just like you, but, I don't think your mom left because she didn't like you." Jeremy lifted his face to side-glance Michael through his bangs. "You don't know that..." He croaked.

The other boy shrugged. "You're right, I don't. But! Even if there's a teeny, tiny chance of that, then who cares?" Michael gave a hopeful smile, but Jeremy was just confused. "What do you mean? She's my mom, and moms love their kids, don't they? So if she didn't like me, then was I doing something wrong?"

His friend rolled his eyes. "Pff, if she doesn't like you, then there must be something wrong with her brain! There are lots of reasons to like you and lots of people that do! Your dad likes you, Veronica likes you, my parents and my brother like you, and, well..." Michael's smile grew wider. "I like you!"

Jeremy gave a crooked smile, still not quite buying into his friend's reassurance. "And why?"

"Why what?"

Jeremy's smile immediately fell. "You said there were lots of reasons to like me. Were you lying?"

Michael gasped dramatically. "No! There ARE lots of reasons! I can't POSSIBLY name them all, but!" He pulled away from Jeremy, squishing the boy's face in his direction so he was forced to look directly at him. "You're smart, you're funny, you're really good at Tetris, and also..." He then began violently ruffling the hair behind Jeremy's ears, making it an even bigger mess than it already was. "You've got the best floof hair!" He shouted.

Jeremy tried his best to hide his chipped smile and not snicker, batting at Michael's hands and leaning away as his cheeks were dusted pink. His friend smirked before his face completely lit up. "OH! One more thing! I almost forgot!" The blue-eyed boy raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What?" Before he knew it Michael tackled him and began jabbing at his sides. "You're suuuuuuper ticklish!"

Jeremy squealed and fell backward, breaking into laughter and trying desperately to push Michael off of him. "NO! Stop! Plea-hee-heese! Stop, st-ha-op it! Mi-hi-hi-ch-ha-ha-ael!" His protest went ignored as Michael continued to tickle him unforgivingly. "Is sad Jeremy still Heere?" He called over his friend's laughter. Jeremy shook his head and tried to speak between giggles and wheezes. "No! Hee-he's gone! Now please! St-stop it! I can't brea-hee-heathe!"

Being thoroughly satisfied with Jeremy's response, Michael got off and knelt next to him in his own fit of giggles. Sitting up and calming himself down, Jeremy let out a happy sigh. Though, Michael still felt the need to say one thing. "So..." Seeing Jeremy's freckled face turn up to him, he continued. "Even if, like... Your mom left... I'm not gonna leave you. Ever. Okay?" Immediately understanding, the boy nodded.

After a moment, he dropped his head onto Michael's shoulder. "Thanks, Mikey..." He breathed. "You're the best..." Michael grinned. "I know! And, you're welcome." He returned his arm to its spot around Jeremy's shoulder before deciding to pull him into a real hug. Slightly hesitant at first, Jeremy returned the hug, humming into Michael's neck.

The boys stayed like that for a moment, until they heard Jeremy's sitter's voice from across the way. "Michael, Jeremy, time to go." Jeremy turned over his shoulder. "Coming!" He called, parting from the hug and helping Michael onto his feet. The two ran across the field to the small collection of cars on the side of the road.

When they arrived, Jeremy's father was already getting into his car with a simple 'Thank you, Veronica.' Before Jeremy could open the door to the back seat, his babysitter gently took his hand. "Hey, Sport." She said, smiling. "You're actually coming with me, I have a surprise for you." Jeremy's eyes widened. "Really?! What is it, what is it?!" He asked excitedly, practically bouncing. Veronica knelt down, quietly laughing to herself. "I can't tell you, silly." She leaned closer to Jeremy, whispering. "Then it wouldn't be a surprise."

Mimicking the hushed tone, Jeremy slowly nodded in realization. "Ooohhhhhh..." He made a 'shh' gesture to her as she smiled and stood back up. "So where are we going?" The boy asked. Veronica looked down at him. "That's the surprise." She winked, garnering another giggle from Jeremy as she led him to her car. He looked over his shoulder to see Nick being ushered into the backseat as he climbed over the console and one of his mothers took the front. Michael began sauntering to the other side of the car, about to join his older brother.

Getting an idea, Jeremy tugged on his sitter's sleeve. "Uh, Ronnie?" He quickly asked. "Mmhm?" She responded, looking back down at the boy. Speaking just a little louder and a little more worriedly, Jeremy's eyes flicked to his friend and back up at her. "Can Michael come too??" Michael turned around at the mention of his name, as did the owner of the Mell's mini van.

Slightly surprised by Jeremy's question, Veronica looked up at Michael's mother as if to silently ask permission. The boy's moms had an equally silent eye-conversation with each other. The woman outside the car looked back at Veronica with a smile while sitting in the driver's seat. "Have him home before nine." She said.

Jeremy clapped his hands with a 'Yay!' Michael grinned and immediately ran over to his friend, both going to either side of Veronica's car and waiting for her to unlock it. She giggled at their eagerness, pressing a button and unlocking their doors with a 'click'. The boys instantaneously opened them and scrambled into their seats in a fit of giggles.

The car ride went over peacefully, with Michael and Jeremy taking turns playing Tetris on the younger boy's Gameboy Advance. Despite his best efforts, Michael just couldn't beat his friend's high score. He acted upset about it, but everyone knew he wasn't really mad and just laughed along with him. At one point, Veronica turned on the radio and let the boys sing their hearts out to whatever came on, occasionally joining in. The sky was turning to a mix of orange and other dark purples when they finally arrived at their destination.

 

Which so happened to be a 7-Eleven.

 

"Think of this as your early birthday present." Veronica said as she led the boys into the small store by their hands. They looked around in wonder at the aisles of various snacks and candies, the bright lights reflecting off of the linoleum flooring. Across the way, Jeremy spotted a shelf with packs of mini doughnuts. The chocolate ones were what really peaked his interest.

Before they'd gotten too far in, and before Jeremy could drag his sitter to the other end of the store toward the doughnuts, she pulled him and his friend into a nearby aisle. "Now, you two stay right here in this row. You can pick one of any candy you want while I go and get your real surprise."

Michael immediately began excitedly looking around the aisle. As Veronica was about to head for the back of the store, Jeremy stopped her. "Could I have some of the little chocolate doughnuts over there?" He asked, pointing. "The kind in the plastic?" She glanced in the direction he pointed to before looking back. "Sure thing! But!" She put her hand out in front of the boy before he could dart over to the shelf. "You'll have to wait here for just a couple minutes, ok?"

Deflating a little, Jeremy nodded. "Okay." He said. Veronica gave another smile before walking to where the 'surprise' was. "Jeremy! C'mere!" The boy turned, walking over to a waving Michael, who was trying to decide between getting Skittles or an Airhead as his choice of candy. While he tried to explain why they were both good and why he couldn't decide, Jeremy didn't really pay much attention to him at all. All he was thinking about was the doughnuts he'd seen, and how there were only to packs of the chocolate kind left. He knew there were other people in the store, and was more than a little afraid that someone would get to them before him.

Speak of the devil, there are some people right now. A girl with long brown stared at Jeremy as she walked along the side of the store next to a man, maybe her father. (Or hey, maybe she was brought by a babysitter too.) The look wasn't easy to read. She was out of his view from the aisle as quickly as she had appeared.

Jeremy knew that girls didn't have cooties or anything, but he still found it weird she had been looking at him so strangely. "What do you think?" He was snapped out of his thoughts by Michael's voice. "Get the Skittles." Jeremy answered. "Then we can share easier."

Michael grabbed the candy with a smile. "You're right, that's a good idea!" Jeremy returned the gesture, walking past his friend and looking around the corner to the direction the girl walked. All he saw was her hair trailing behind her as she went along the back of the store, where Veronica was. Jeremy shrugged and turned back to his friend.

"What do you think the surprise is?" He asked when remembering that that was why they were in the store. His friend shrugged. "I dunno, I don't think this place has any toys or anything like that." He said. Jeremy nodded. "I don't know either, but I'm excited!"

"Me too!" The two giggled some more, deciding to peek around the corner of the shelf to see if they could see their surprise or Veronica. And they did see her, pulling some dollar bills out of her purse and giving them to the person behind the counter. She grabbed two cups with straws sticking out of the top, thanking the cashier and turning back to the boys as the next customers shuffled up to the counter.

The two scrambled back to make it look like they hadn't seen her. She snickered. "Hey, sneaky little ninjas." Veronica teased, crouching down with the cups in-hand. "You two ready to have your first ever slushees?" She mused, handing the icy drinks to the two. Who cares that it's almost 8:00 and these already hyperactive children are being handed paper cups of flavored sugary ice on a Thursday? They turn eight soon, it's fine, they deserve it.

They took the slushees in a chorus of 'woah's. Blue for Jeremy, red for Michael. "Happy birthday, kiddos." The boys beamed up at the babysitter. "Thank you!"

"Yeah! Thanks, Ronnie!"

Looking back at each other, the friends happily sucked on their straws. Now, they new the drinks were going to be cold because they could feel it through their cups.

But.

Wow.

THAT'S cold!

Freezing, actually.

Their faces simultaneously scrunched up, and Veronica immediately began laughing. "Sooo..." She started after a moment. "What do ya think?" Jeremy was the one to state the obvious, licking his lips a little. "It's cold!"

"Yeah!" Michael agreed. "It feels like it could freeze your brain!" Veronica made a face, adding on another small laugh. "Funny that you choose to say it like that." She said. "Some people actually get brain freezes from drinking those." As the words came out if her mouth, Jeremy's face morphed into one of complete horror. "Wait! Their brains literally freeze?!?!"

"Pfff, no!" The woman ruffled his hair lovingly, meeting his terrified eyes with those of humor and affection. "That's silly! It's more of an ice cream headache. You'll be ok." His look of trauma became one of curiosity. "Huh... I've never gotten a headache from eating ice cream." Michael, having practically finished half of his slushee at that point, made a similar face. "Me neither." He said.

Jeremy looked down at his own cup, tracing his finger along the rim of the plastic lid. "Those people are weird." Veronica laughed a little more, perhaps at the bluntness of the boys. "Everyone's a little weird, Jeremy. It's just the way people are." She let out with a slight roll of her eyes.

The next couple minutes were spent talking about how Veronica went to 7-Eleven quite a bit when she was younger. She didn't really give many details, but the boys didn't notice or care. Instead, they laughed at the fact that the name 'Corn nuts' for a snack existed. They compared it both to cracking open a nut and finding corn, and seeing a nut on a cob.

That was, until Veronica remembered something else. "Oh, did you pick out your snacks?" She asked. Michael nodded. "Uh-huh!" He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the pack of Skittles he'd picked up, as per Jeremy's request. "Ummm..." Jeremy, on the other hand, had to think for a moment. He remembered looking at the candy with Michael, but didn't remember grabbing anything.

But then, he remembered that he was distracted by that girl with the long brown hair. He remembered the weird look in her eye. It was kinda blank, but that wasn't really the important part. She had walked to the back of the store where Veronica had gotten his and Michael's slushees. And then it hit him.

Veronica walked to the back of the store while passing a certain shelf that had plastic packages of small doughnuts in them. "Oh! Um!" Bouncing a little, he pointed a frantic finger to the shelf. "Doughnuts!" He said quickly. After a small look of confusion, Veronica also remembered. "Oh yeah, wanna go get them?"

Jeremy nodded his head and set his cup on the ground, also remembering that there were only two packs of the chocolate kind left when he had first looked. He ran to the shelf and quickly scanned it, looking for the dark brown circles he was anticipating. There were white powdered doughnuts, peach-colored vanilla doughnuts, but...

No chocolate.

He looked some more, moving some of the packages aside to see if there were any behind them that he missed.

Still nothing.

He double checked, triple checked, but couldn't find a six-pack of mini chocolate doughnuts. "Noooo..." He whined, falling to his knees and looking at the ground in defeat. "Jeremy, is something wrong?" Came Veronica's caring voice. "Are... You ok?" Was Michael's worried question. Jeremy didn't answer. He recognized the movement of them coming over without looking up, his face growing warmer and eyes beginning to sting.

He heard the sound of his sitter asking the person behind the counter about chocolate doughnuts, but didn't hear any sort of answer from of them. They had probably shaken their head or done something else of that nature. Michael was patting on his back, offering to help him look for something else from the aisle they were in a few minutes ago. But he just didn't answer them, didn't look at them.

Jeremy was about to curl up and hug his knees, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, startling him and making him stop. A hand had placed a small, chocolate doughnut on his leg. And then another, and another. Three out of the six doughnuts that came in one of the packages. When Jeremy looked up, he saw the girl from earlier, holding the opened plastic with the remaining three doughnuts inside in her hand.

She was giving an odd smile. Kind of worried, scared? No, not scared, not disgusted, but almost? Disgusted isn't the right word, um... It was a weird smile, that's all Jeremy could really get out of it. But it was a smile, and she had done something nice for him. She had given him some of the doughnuts that he'd wanted, but couldn't get to in time.

He was speechless, and before he could remember he was supposed to say something like 'thanks', the girl was running out of the store back to the man she was with. The man looked down to say something to her as she climbed into the backseat of the car.

Jeremy looked back down at the doughnuts resting on his right leg, carefully taking them in his hand and looking back up to the exit of the store. He heard Veronica say something about how that was really nice of that girl to do, heard Michael ask about who she was. Jeremy didn't listen to them, he just let the small smile spread across his face.

Without thinking, he stood up and ran to the automatic doors past Michael and Veronica and his slushee. Seeing the white car backing out of the parking space, and seeing that the back window was open, he cupped his hands around his mouth. "Thank you!" He called out. A second or two later, he saw brown hair gently being carried out of the window by the wind as part of the girl's face came into view. "You're welcome!" She called back, waving a hand.

Jeremy waved back, smile growing wider as the car drove out of the small parking lot onto the main road. He turned around and went back into the 7-Eleven, picking up his slushee off the ground. Michael was there to greet him. "Is that your girlfriend?" He asked with a twisted look. Jeremy scrunched up his nose at him. "No! I don't even know her!" Michael laughed, and Veronica rolled her eyes as she payed for his Skittles. "Well then, you two, are you ready to go?" She asked while giving the candy back to Michael.

"Uh-huh!" Jeremy nodded, popping a doughnut into his mouth and linking an arm around Michael's. He would've held his or Veronica's hand, but his own were full. They left the store and went back to the car, dropping off Michael on the way back to Jeremy's house.

He'd finished his doughnuts at that point, licking off the melted chocolate on his fingers. He still had some of his slushee left over, and Veronica put it in the fridge so he could finish it later. Jeremy kicked off his shoes and flopped onto the couch, pulling out his Gameboy Advance and starting up another game of Tetris. He played that for a while until Veronica said it was time to put it away. They ended up joking around until Jeremy began to grow tired, laying down on his sitter's lap.

Veronica began stroking his hair and gently combing out some of the knots with her fingers as he dozed off. "Ronnie..." He hummed sleepily. "Mmhm?" She hummed back. The boy shifted a little as he moved a hand to the woman's knee. "I love you..." He murmured. Veronica smiled and planted a kiss to Jeremy's temple. "I love you too." She whispered as the boy fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This still took a month like the last chapter did... But it didn't take 31 days... So technically I DIDN'T break my promise!! ...aahhh... Also, MAKE BABYSITTER RONNIE A THING!!! ACK!


	16. Michael In Denial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's point of view.  
> He is in denial.  
> And like.  
> He's a sad boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get the tissues, you'll probably need them  
> Also there's a tad of German speaking Jeremy  
> This gets a tad song-fic-y, just a tad tho

~~~

 

October 31, 2015

 

After what felt like centuries, Michael finally decided he was done with this bullshit. He'd been in Jake's bathroom for God knows how long and it took him until now to realize that he ought to just get up and leave. Why wallow in the water closet when he can wallow in his bed or his basement? Honestly, what was he even expecting to get out of sitting there like a...? Well, to put it into Jeremy's words...

A loser.

An apology? Like Jeremy felt bad for leaving, he was seemingly doing way better without Michael there. A shoulder to cry on? Who's shoulder? Who knew him? Who cared? All anyone cares about is the fact that someone has been in the bathroom for... God, no less than a half hour, and that's a pretty low estimate. Someone to tell him everything would be ok? Ha, laughable. That's what Jeremy was for, and no way would he be doing that ever again. No way would he ever associate with a loser like Michael when he's finally hanging out with the cool kids. It wasn't him knocking on the door just a few minutes ago, it was some drunk person about to piss their pants or barf or both.

Cuz that's just how drunk people do.

So yeah, what was he still doing in there? There was no point in staying. He could try and listen to the music through the door, but why listen to party music with drunk and stoned teenagers screaming over it through a bathroom door when he can listen to Bob Marley while getting stoned by himself in his quiet basement through his headphones? That was what pushed Michael to finally pull himself off the ground and unlock the door.

As if on cue, the poppy song being played over the speakers changed to an instantly recognizable acoustic instrumental. God, part of Michael wanted to stay just for that song, but the other part knew that he would just end up completely breaking down again if he did.

It was stupid, he KNEW it was stupid. And cheesy and pathetic and gay, and like not in the happy way, but every single little thing just reminded him of Jeremy. You know, whether that was in the gay way or not. Despite the fact that their friendship had practically been burned at the stake a little bit ago, he couldn't help but feel the pain of past memories. Car ride karaoke, gaming marathons, movie nights, all filling up his chest with hurt and almost making him cry again.

Still, he slowly opened the door as the warm melody grew just a bit louder. He just had to make it outside so that he would hear as little of the song as possible. Several girls cooed at the nostalgia of hearing the song and how it was their absolute favorite in first and second grade. The front door wasn't far from the bathroom, so Michael had no problem getting to it without needing to push past anyone. Despite that, he wasn't quick enough and still ended up hearing the first line of the song as he was closing the door behind him.

'Hey there, Delilah-'

CLACK

Ignoring Jenna patting a girl on the back while she barfed into the rose bushes, Michael trudged down the driveway overflowing with cars to the sidewalk as tears threatened to trail down his face. Apparently, Jenna couldn't ignore him as easily as he could ignore her. "Hey, Creeps!" She called. "Eyes are lookin' a little puffy, what were you-" Michael cut her off. "Weed in my eye." He spat, not turning to look at her. He'd only imagined himself using one of those excuses and not both at the same time, but whatever. "Oof! I've been there, dude, not fun!" The girl then went back to talking about whatever with the sick drunk next to her.

Michael didn't listen to their antics, he tried not to think about anything that would make him tear up with painfully little success. Christ... Why did 'Hey There, Delilah' have to sound so much like 'Hey, Jeremiah'? Again, just one of those stupid things he did where he connected everything to Jeremy for basically no reason.

It was the worst with music. Other than the fact that ninety percent of songs on the radio were love songs (again, the cheesiness of that is painful), they all just seemed to fit so well with everything in Michael's life. If he wasn't associating certain lyrics to things he'd experienced, he was imagining Jeremy standing on his bed and singing them into a hairbrush or making fun of them for being so cliche.

Doing his best to ignore the thought of his (now almost definitely ex) best friend singing along to Whitney and Fall Out Boy and... well, ANYTHING, Michael shoved his hands into his pockets and continued on through the neighborhood lit only by the street lamps and not quite full moon.

He had known he would probably try to drink his feelings away the moment he decided he would sneak into the party, so he didn't risk driving. He (surprisingly) didn't live terribly far from Jake's house anyway, it would probably only be about a twenty minute walk.

Huh, the more ya know.

Of course, getting drunk wasn't the reason Michael had initially gone to the party. His top priority was to warn Jeremy about the SQUIP. Well, you know, emphasis on the fact that it WAS. And then when he'd arrived, Jeremy was getting a pat on the back and a fist bump from Jake.

Jake Dillinger, the coolest and most popular guy they'd known since seventh grade. The same guy that was getting laid every other week. The same guy that both Michael and Jeremy knew they would never be like. The same guy that they knew as the embodiment of douchebaggery.

And Jeremy was buddies with him.

If having Brooke as a girlfriend wasn't enough to show that he had moved on, then that was. That had shown that Jeremy had finally decided to leave Michael in the dirt. That had shown that geeky Jeremy Heere was finally flourishing as one of the cool kids. And Michael was still just the same loser he always was.

He didn't mind not being popular, he really didn't, but it was the fact that Jeremy wasn't popular WITH him that made it ok. They were a team, Player One and Player Two, alone together, losers and proud.

And seeing him with Jake made twelve years of friendship feel like it meant absolutely nothing. All it took was Jeremy swallowing a floppy disk to act like it never happened. That was what drove Michael into the bathroom in the first place, aside from the fact Jeremy was the only person at the party that he really knew and, well, he doubted he'd get anywhere with him.

Staying in the bathroom (after grabbing a couple beers, of course,) gave Michael a lot of time to think. What he mostly thought about was that after being ignored for almost two months, he finally realized what that meant. Now that he was comprehending the fact that Jeremy had completely forgotten he'd existed, he was able to realize how shitty that was. Michael convinced himself that Jeremy had 100% stopped caring about him. So he let that anger and hurt fester for a while.

He got to thinking as he smoked the blunt he smuggled (because like hell was he going to trust anything from the Stoners' Corner that he didn't get himself) and yeah, Jeremy was an asshole for leaving like that. Jeremy was being an insensitive prick. Jeremy was being a total piece of shit. Jeremy was actively ignoring Michael in favor of Brooke 'Cinnamon-Roll' Lohst and Jake 'Every-Extracurricular' Dillinger. After twelve years of laughs and tears and game overs and slushees, he dropped it all like it was nothing.

It wasn't until then that he really let it sink in. That was cruel. That was mean. That was heartless. That hurt. That deserved a punch in the face. Physical? Maybe. Metaphorical? Definitely. Of course, Michael couldn't fight fire with fire and ignore Jeremy while pretending their friendship didn't exist (since he was kinda low-key doing that anyway and nothing was happening), but he could call him out for doing just that. He could recount all the times he could've left his friend in the dirt and didn't. He could recount every single time when Jeremy needed him and he was there when he could've been doing anything else. He could rant on and on and on and maybe, just maybe he could make Jeremy feel as shitty as he was being. Maybe Michael could hurt him just enough for him to feel bad for what he was doing. That was his plan, that was good, that's what he was gonna do. He was going to give Jeremy a piece of his mind.

That was... Until he'd actually gone face to face with the SQUIPped teen. And after a month and a half of no Jeremy whatsoever, he was hit in the face with JUST Jeremy. Classic panicky, shriek-y, confused Jeremy. He was mad at first, he was going to yell and scream and call him out... But he didn't. Something about seeing his former friend up close after so long just struck a chord with Michael, flipped a switch. He tried to ignore that, really he did, he TRIED to be mad at Jeremy. It sort of worked, he'd gotten that point across to him effectively.

Jeremy did look like he at least somewhat subconsciously knew how Michael must have felt. He DID look a bit guilty while his Bathtub Bro(TM) was being salty and more aggressive-than-passive. And yeah, Michael kept trying to be mad, but Jeremy was being just so JEREMY that he kinda couldn't. Even worse that Jeremy was intoxicated and he was more klutzy than usual, which is saying kind of a lot. Something about that made him mad, yeah, but... He just looked so clueless, yet still endearing because his hair was ruffled like he'd just woken up and his cheeks were slightly pink, which made it look like he was blushing and his blue eyes had a little sparkle in them like they always did before this stupid SQUIP shit started and Jesus CHRIST he just looked so DAMN cute!

And Michael kept trying and TRYING to push that down and ignore it and be pissed off! He TRIED going on a tangent to get the hurt and anger to bubble up and to wipe Jeremy's dumb, dopey, perfect smile off his face. He tried and tried but Jeremy was just giving Michael sleepy heart eyes the whole time and he was so OBVIOUSLY drunk but he looked so happy and he ACTUALLY said it was 'really great to see you, man...' Hey, Michael! He's gonna try and pull an 'I love you'! Threaten to smack him for it, WANT to smack him for it!

 

 

 

And Michael somehow couldn't see the joke coming...

 

When Jeremy said - when he GIGGLED - and said, with that amazing little smile of his...

 

"...you love me."

 

That.

 

Had just broken him.

 

That made Michael's stupid heart melt.

 

And all he could think was, 'God, Jer... You don't know how true that is... You don't know how much that accuracy hurts... I do love you, but you can't know that since you clearly don't feel the same, these past couple weeks are proof enough... I love every stupid little thing about you, I love everything you hate about yourself and I hate that I couldn't convince you to not swallow that stupid little toaster to change yourself. I couldn't tell you that I love you just the way you are because you like Christine and you want to change for her. And here you are in Jake Dillinger's goddamn bathroom of all places looking at me like I'm the only thing that matters, like Christine doesn't even exist. But I know you're drunk and you probably won't even remember any of this by the time tomorrow rolls around. But you're being just so perfectly yourself and I love that I'm actually in the same room as you with your undivided attention for the first time since September. But I know that it won't last and you'll just go back to ignoring me when you sober up. And it hurts so much and you're sitting here completely oblivious and looking so perfect and I love you and you can never know. Jeremy, you're killin' me here...'

 

The last part was the only thing he actually said.

And of course, Jeremy just had to make it worse by laughing at a dumb little Heere joke.

But hey, Michael actually brought himself to throw a beer can at him after that, that's progress!

(He 'tore it up and flushed it.' Damn, of course his mind goes to a dumb, pointless Jeremy memory. Or... Jere-mory. Heheh, pun...)

Though, he had reverted back to Plan A, to tell Jeremy that the SQUIP really was bad news. He didn't really know why he had, but seeing Jeremy's expression twist in several ways when he talked on sort of gave Michael hope. He thought that maybe he was getting through to his friend in some way, maybe this was his chance.

But Jeremy started denying it and accusing Michael of lying, but wouldn't anyone? He was climbing the social ladder because of the SQUIP, he shouldn't have thought Jeremy would be convinced that easily (even though a selfish part of him hoped he would be).

Then he'd gotten desperate and kept going on and on, told him about the Harvard student losing his mind trying to get the damn SQUIP out of his head. Michael kept trying to scare Jeremy away from the SQUIP, he had every reason to fear it! But he still didn't believe him, Jeremy didn't WANT to believe him. Michael even blocked his only exit and indirectly threatened him, he tried everything he could think of to get it through to Jeremy's head that the SQUIP doesn't belong inside it. This insanely powerful piece of technology shouldn't be in a sketchy place like a New Jersey high school when it should - well ok, it shouldn't be in ANYONE, but in comparison to a public school - be in world leaders and other impactful people. Seriously, a high school, of all places!

No, what Michael used the most was how it could possibly drive Jeremy insane or make him snap or something equally bad. He couldn't bear the thought of his friend since Pre-K in the looney bin, the hypothetical alone almost made him break. Michael kept trying and TRYING to make Jeremy understand, but he was being so goddamn stubborn cuz the goddamn beer or whatever in his system had impaired him. Selfish as the thought may be, he would probably be way more convinced if he was sober. But he wasn't, he wasn't right in the head! His life could be ruined and he didn't listen the one thing that could save him because of his inebriated state! Jeremy just kept saying that he could get through without Michael there, but he didn't know that he seriously couldn't! The Harvard student couldn't, and it was too late for him by the time he actually did get help.

 

 

  
And then...

 

 

  
The last thirty seconds...

 

 

  
Were probably the worst part.

 

"Or you'll what?"

 

That was his last resort, that was the only thing Michael could think to say to make Jeremy stay. And for a brief, fluttering moment, he thought that it had worked and that he could save Jeremy from the SQUIP. His facial expression may not have said as much, but he was looking at Michael with albeit blurry and unfocused blue eyes and he almost thought he saw something there. Why Michael got his hopes up could be chocked up to the moment of silence between them, or that he thought Jeremy would answer in the form of an action. He'd leaned in close and Michael could feel the shorter teen's breath on his face in the close proximity. He even stayed in that spot for a strangely intimate amount of time before...

 

 

 

 

 

  
"Get out of my way...

 

 

  
Loser."

 

 

  
And then Jeremy left.

 

 

 

 

 

  
Why?

 

 

  
WHY the HELL did Michael think Jeremy was going to KISS HIM?! WHAT was he THINKING?! God, maybe the insult wouldn't have hurt as much if Michael didn't have his mind on the Gay Train, WHY was he expecting the drunk idiot in front of him to go in for a smooch? Leave it to slightly buzzed and nowhere-near-stoned-enough Michael to completely misread a situation when it's PAINFULLY obvious that he shouldn't be getting his hopes up.

Idiot, stupid, Michael who no one knows, who no ones cares to know, who no one cares about, stupid, idiot, Michael flying solo, creep, weirdo, stupid, Michael the loner, gay mess, all by himself, can't even leave the goddamn bathroom, dumbass, shit brain, stoner-

Loser.

 

Loser.

 

Loser.

 

Loser, loser, loser, loser, loser, loser.

 

"...Loser."

 

Michael wiped his eyes, being startled out of his reverie by the sound of a wailing fire engine. Wait, a fire engine? Having just reached his front door, he scanned the area and saw the flashing lights of the emergency vehicle whizzing down another road. The next thing he saw was a distant cloud of grey smoke accumulating in the sky in the direction it drove... Which seemed eerily close to Jake's house.

That's...

'It's... Nothing. Just nothing.' Michael thought as he opened the front door maybe a little too quickly and locked himself inside the house. What a piece of shit night. What a piece of shit Halloween. Oh, right, it was Halloween. There would be trick-or-treaters. Ah whatever, just keep the lights off and they'll stay away. Hopefully.

Michael went straight to his room and flopped onto his bed after aggressively kicking off his shoes, not caring if they hit the wall seeing as how there were no parents home to scold him. They'd gone to their own Halloween party, probably having an infinitely better night than their son. God, no 'probably' about it, they WERE having an infinitely better night. Chances were that none of them locked themselves in a bathroom because the only person they had any goddamn clue how to talk to had ended their dozen-year-long friendship and left them there like last week's garbage when all they were trying to do was help them because they didn't know the dangers of the pill they swallowed to try and be cool.

But hey, just a hunch.

Michael dropped his glasses onto the bedside table and crammed the charger into his almost dead phone as he looked at the time. 11:23 PM. Hm, maybe there wouldn't be many trick-or-treaters after all. Who knows though, people are weird and almost always stay out past curfew (hell, Michael did, that night even). But the last thing Michael wanted to think about was anything at all, so he smacked the 'Radio' button on his clock to get some noise to distract him. Yeah, the plan was initially to listen to good ol' Marley, but 1.) His phone wasn't charged enough for that, 2.) He couldn't listen while it charged because the cord was a stupid length, and 3.) He wasn't going to wear his headphones while he tried to fall asleep and forget the world existed. Cuz those things were bulky as shit and he made that mistake before and just no.

Thankfully, the DJ was introducing a song the Michael labeled as 'pretty alright, still not the first thing I'd turn to'. And honestly, that was better than complete shit. Also, Michael was kinda desperate. He still knew that it wouldn't distract him from the night and the universe as a whole completely, seeing as how it was 'Jenny Was A Friend Of Mine' by The Killers. The sound of a siren in the song reminded him of the fire truck he heard just minutes ago, but he still tried to ignore it as the bass of the song kicked in.

'We took a walk that night, but it wasn't the same,  
We had a fight on the promenade out in the rain'

Jesus, why does that line feel all too real and all too fitting? Music has just always been a way to provoke emotion in its audience while telling a story, huh? After all, it's what most people turn to when words alone don't do enough justice. Michael's willing to admit that he's just as guilty.

'She said she loved me,  
But she had somewhere to go,  
She couldn't scream while I held her close,  
I swore I'd never let her go'

Michael had already recognized at one point that the song was about a murder mystery and interrogation. The singer (or at least the character he was portraying) had been accused of killing the 'Jenny' character, and the song follows him trying to convince the cops he's innocent with the excuse that 'Jenny was a friend of mine.'

'Tell me what you wanna know,  
Oh come on, oh come on, oh come on,  
There ain't no motive for this crime,  
Jenny was a friend of mine  
So come on, oh come on, oh come on'

Michael found himself changing the pronouns in his head, and audibly pronouncing the name of Jenny differently. Now, he knew that the comparison obviously wasn't one-to-one... Buuuuut that didn't stop him from comparing the lyrics to Jeremy, Jeremy before the SQUIP, Jeremy with the SQUIP, Jeremy at the party, Jeremy generally.

"I know my rights, I've been here all day and it's time,  
For me to go, so let me know if it's alright"

Perhaps back at the mall, once Michael had grabbed his Crystal Pepsi (among other things) and went to meet back up with Jeremy, only to find that he wasn't in the food court where he'd left him. After seeing Brooke and Chloe offer him a ride home, he'd disheartened-ly wondered if that meant he could just leave without him. When it seemed as though Jeremy declined, Michael tried calling out to him only to be ignored.

Or maybe, it could've been the entire time that Jeremy had been pretending he didn't exist. Michael would constantly see Jeremy in the halls and in the classes that they shared, but would never get any sort of reaction out of him when trying to talk to him. Even standing right in front of him did nothing, he would simply look right through him with notably sparkle-less eyes. He'd taken it as the SQUIPped teen dropping hints that he wasn't interested in hanging out with him, so finally, Michael stopped trying to grab his attention.

"I just can't take this,  
I swear I told you the truth"

That brother he was talking about that got the SQUIP, he was in a goddamn mental hospital because of it. And Jeremy thought Michael was lying about that. He should know him better, he couldn't make shit like that up if he tried. It was a scary as hell thought and Jeremy didn't take it seriously, didn't account for the fact that that could potentially be him. And maybe Michael's knowledge of SQUIPs was still fairly limited, but what he'd seen and heard from his Warcraft buddy had been some of the scariest shit he'd come across in years. All the more terrifying that it could be JEREMY going through the exact same thing. Jeremy being mentally abused, Jeremy being hurt, Jeremy being pressured into a mold he didn't fit, Jeremy losing his mind, Jeremy not being Jeremy.

"He couldn't scream while I held him close,  
I swore I'd never let him go"

There were often times when the boy let his anxiety and insecurities get the better of him, which was likely a large contributing factor in his interest in getting a SQUIP. More often than not, Michael was the one he would go to when he was having a mental breakdown, listing off ten thousand reasons for him to not exist. Ten thousand reasons for him to be cast away and for his only friend to go on to do bigger and better things, completely breaking himself down and convincing himself that there was no reason for anyone to care for him. Hell, it got so bad that Michael almost spilled the beans on how much he truly cared for Jeremy on more than one occasion in his attempts to bring him back to Earth.

His panic attacks almost always lead to Michael enveloping him in a big hug, muffling Jeremy's sobs and almost instantly leveling his breathing and calming him down. And as the scrawny, shaky boy clung to Michael as if he'd completely vanish from his life forever, he'd assure Jeremy that he was worth the time and energy. That he meant a lot to him, on a higher level than just a second player for a difficult level in a game. He'd assure him that he'd 'never let him go.'

"Tell me what you wanna know,  
Oh come on, oh come on, oh come on"

Jeremy didn't believe that Michael actually knew some stuff about SQUIPs? Ok, then ask him something. Ask him what he 'thinks' he knows. Let him go through all the Skype messages from his WoW friend. Watch the before and after videos of his older brother's complete personality change, his much more prominent irritability and shorter temper. Watch the very last video of the guy in tears, begging and pleading to no one to make it all stop, to go away, to leave him alone, to leave his family alone, to get out of his life, to get out of his head, only for him to jolt violently and spaz out in complete and utter agony before ultimately collapsing onto the ground while his parents cried out in fear to call an ambulance and the video to end abruptly. Look at the before and after pictures and note the circuit pattern scars by his temples and on his shoulders. Look at how that college student mentally snapped and how he is not the same person he was. Look at the facts, Jeremy, that could be you.

"And then you whisper in my ear,  
'I know what you're doing here'  
So come on, oh come on, oh come on"

Well, as if the obvious and almost definitely overused Heere joke wasn't enough, Jeremy had accused Michael of being jealous of him for having a SQUIP. He was buzzed, totally, but that didn't make him sound any less serious and completely convinced. That didn't mean his words didn't hold any amount of truth in his mind.

"There ain't no motive for this crime,  
Jeremy was a friend of mine..."

 

 

  
Well...

 

 

  
That one's pretty self-explanatory.

 

 

  
There was no reason for Jeremy to be distant and shitty because he and Michael were friends.

 

 

  
They were friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

They WERE friends.

 

 

  
Not anymore.

\---

When Michael woke up, he was in less than a good mood. And rightfully so, it was four in the morning and his old fart of a cat was screaming at him. Sure, he tended to naturally wake up a little earlier anyway, but not this much earlier and not when he felt this much like he was dying inside. And the meowing fluff butt was definitely not helping his cause. Michael groaned as he lazily flung a pillow in the direction of his bedroom door. "I poopy scoopy your kitty shitties, what do you want from me...?"

Seeming unfazed by the pillow thrown at him, JJ chirped as he scampered to the bed and hopped by Michael's side. The teen sighed as he pet the animal with one hand and reached for his phone with the other: No new notifications. Not that he was expecting any. Michael opened his conversation with Jeremy anyway, as if the phone was lying and he actually had received a text from the other teen. He hadn't. He scrolled up anyway, seeing the giant wall of messages he'd sent pestering Jeremy to respond already. Michael kept scrolling, not stopping in time to see the last message he'd received. But what he saw made him ache all over, as it was the very beginning of something that was amazing at the time, but just depressing now.

 

Aug 31, 2015, 8:16 AM

Michael:  
<Duuuuuuude this class suuuuucks the teacher suuuuuuuucks everything suuuuuuucks>

Jeremy:  
<That's unfortunate>

Michael:  
<Class has only been going on for like 20 minutes and I already wanna leave>

Jeremy:  
<Me in a nutshell>

Michael:  
<Ima just start typing song lyrics so you better do a duet with me>  
<I'm so tired of being here>

Jeremy:  
<Suppressed by all my goldfish fears>  
<CHILDISH>  
<SHIT>

Michael:  
<OH MY GOD>

Jeremy:  
<NOT GOLDFISH>

Michael:  
<GOLDFISH>

Jeremy:  
<Argnxkskm no!!!>

Michael:  
<HA>  
<I'M DEAD>  
<RIP in peace Michael Mell>  
<Died of laughter>

Jeremy:  
<Ugghh it's Monday! I can't type on Mondays!>

Michael:  
<Had to make up excuse so teacher wouldn't be suspicious of random hysterical laughter>  
<Dude you can't type any days>

Jeremy:  
<Oh shit you right>

Michael:  
<I always right>  
<Goldfish fears>

Jeremy:  
<Shut up!!>

Michael:  
<Goldfish Heeres>

Jeremy:  
<Ndodndodkspaheehv>  
<Stop!>  
<No!>  
<Timeout!>

Michael:  
<God I freaking can't, I need to get out of Heere I'm laughing too much>  
<I swear autocorrect changed here to Heere>

Jeremy:  
<And if you have to leave, I wish that you would just leave>  
<Sure it did>  
<And we're still dueting, shithead>

Michael:  
<Your presence still lingers Heere>

Jeremy:  
<NEVERMIND no more>

Michael:  
<YOU LOVE ME>

Jeremy:  
<Ehh... Debatable>

Michael:  
<Suuuure~>

Jeremy:  
<Shush>  
<Your>  
<Entire>  
<Face>

Michael:  
<And it won't leave me alone>

Jeremy:  
<I>  
<Hope>  
<Your>  
<Phone>  
<Is>  
<Blowing>  
<Up>  
<Right>  
<Now>  
<Ass>  
<Face>

Michael:  
<These wounds won't seem to heal>  
<Gtg class is actually doing shit now>

Jeremy:  
<This pain is just too real>  
<Rip>  
<Don't die without me>

Michael:  
<No promises>

Jeremy:  
<Le gasp>  
<You is ass>  
<Hope everyone's enjoying the Pac-Man sound effects>  
<Or Mario or whatever the hell it is now>  
<Hope you get your phone taken away>

Michael:  
<Goldfish>

Jeremy:  
<Fine I'll shut up>

 

And that was the last message Jeremy sent.

That is, before Michael started sneaking his phone out of his pocket throughout class to send goldfish pictures and gifs to Jeremy. There was many a time when his responses consisted of nothing more than a string of random letters and symbols.

 

Jeremy:  
<I'm putting you on Do Not Disturb now>  
<I win, loser>

 

And then THAT was the last message Jeremy sent. Everything from that point on was Michael. The next day was the day that they went to the mall to check out the SQUIPs, and Michael didn't text Jeremy because he was being petty about his friend leaving the mall without him. He didn't try to contact him until Wednesday.

  
Sep 2, 2015, 8:30 AM

Michael:  
<Jeremy>  
<Hope you know I don't care about a double text>  
<I'll quadruple text you if I must>  
<Buzz buzz, it's me again>  
<Jer>  
<Hellloooooooo>  
<Answer meh>  
<Plz>  
<Is lonely>  
<Class is suck>  
<If you don't reply ima just send you goldfish gifs again>  
<Jer>  
<Jer>  
<Dude>  
<Buddy>  
<Bro>  
<Player Two>  
<Heere and Queer>  
<RESPOND DAMN YOU>  
<>:(>  
<D:<>  
<>_<>  
<DX<>  
<Dude seriously just respond>  
<You're phone better be blowing up in class rn>  
<Your only excuse for not replying is that your phone was confiscated>  
<Unless>  
<Am I still on Do Not Disturb???>  
<Wow>  
<I cri>  
<Ugh>  
<I suppose this is revenge for not allowing you to suppress all your goldfish fears>  
<Fine>  
<I will get you back soon tho>

 

His plan was to get Jeremy back IRL, but Michael was ignored. In the halls, in their shared classes, at lunch, Jeremy didn't even bat a goddamn eye at him. Not until the end of the day, that is, when he finally came up to Michael acting like he hadn't seen him at all. And that peeved him a bit, and that was before Michael knew that the SQUIP was a shit idea, so he let it go because the pill worked. And THEN he was back to the silent treatment.

 

Sep 2, 2015, 3:21 PM

Michael:  
<Bruh>  
<Weed and games or no???>  
<I see you with Brooke???>  
<The hellz?????>  
<Is the tic-tac doin shit???????>  
<Your phone is in your hand! Don't pretend you don't know I'm texting you!>  
<Rawr>  
<Rawr>  
<Rawr>  
<Respond>  
<Respond>  
<Respond>  
<How could this happen to meeeeeee>  
<I made my mistaaaaakes>  
<Got nowhere to ruuuuun>  
<Where are you goingghhgg?!?!?!?>  
<AaahahahahahahHhhhhhHhhhhh?!?!?!>  
<Did you get Brooke's digits??????>  
<Waaaaaaaa????>  
<Whi arell you and what habit huh done to JEREMYYY>  
<*who>  
<*are>  
<*have>  
<*you>  
<Holy shit you never pass up the opportunity to call me out when I typo>  
<On the rare occasions that I typo>  
<Cuz I don't suck at typing like youuu>  
<Ok dude this is getting really old really fast>  
<The hell is up with you and the squid>  
<SQUIP>  
<Seriously???>  
<Nothing??????>  
<Fine>  
<Be that way>  
<I'll do my own research>  
<Dick>

 

And research he did. Despite the fact that Michael knew nothing came up when looking up SQUIP on Google, he tried anyway. He didn't get anything, obviously. He did the next best thing as far as taking his questions to the Internet went by asking people he knew online. And as we've already discussed, he found WAY more than he ever could've hoped for... Which was both a blessing and a curse.

And Michael tried messaging Jeremy even more after that, but was still, unsurprisingly, disregarded entirely. To push the thoughts and memories away, the teen hastily pulled up his camera roll to look at random memes and pictures to distract himself from all the bad news he was spouting off in text form.

Although the good news (if there was any to be found) was that the radio was still on and playing not-shitty music.

And by not-shitty, of course that meant unbearably timely and relatable. Like, very coincidentally timely and relatable. It was the exact song Michael and Jeremy were quoting over text... Two months ago? It's 4 AM on the first day of November, so two months and one day. That pissed Michael off or something, so he turned the radio off and rolled onto his other side. He wanted a long distraction, so he went all the way to the very beginning of the camera roll.

He'd gotten his phone for his birthday as sixth grade was ending, so the first few pictures obviously made him cringe at his twelve-year-old self. But Michael regretted going all the way back for yet another reason. There were pictures and selfies from Jeremy's birthday as well. God... He looked so innocent and sweet with his tongue sticking out like that. He was downright adorable.

Wait, no, Michael was ignoring that! He wanted to get his mind OFF Jeremy! He kept swiping past the pictures to try and see them for as little time as possible but Christ there were just so many of them. It was more uncommon that he saw a single picture that Jeremy wasn't in. Or if it wasn't a picture with Jeremy in it, it was a text conversation that Michael had screenshotted for whatever reason. Or sometimes it would be just a regular everyday meme, but it was a meme that Jeremy sent to him and the link between the two was there.

At that point, Michael had just said 'screw it'. He already dug himself into this hole, he might as well make himself suffer for it. Or hey, he could look at the pictures and remember that Jeremy didn't care about the memory behind them anymore and bring himself to delete the damn things. He already moved on, so Michael might as well do the same thing. Oh goodie, the first video he'd recorded on his phone. And surprise surprise, Jeremy was taking up the whole screen.

Let's see, he was pretty sure he knew what this video was, but he should just watch it to make sure. Right? Just remember that he and Jeremy were in seventh grade at this point, so of course there's going to be boatloads of cringe. Hesitating for a moment, Michael tapped the play icon.

 

\---The video started---

Jeremy looked far less than pleased, scowling at a point above the phone's camera. That was where Michael's face was, for sure.

"Alright, Jer, say it."

"No."

"C'mon!"

"No!"

"C'mon, please just say it."

"You're recording, no!" Jeremy hissed, showing off teeth covered in braces. He'd given up trying to hide them after Michael got him to laugh out and reveal his secret, but he wasn't any less upset or embarrassed by them or the fact that his friend knew about them. Because somehow, he knew that Michael would try to take advantage of his new impairment. And to his dismay, his aforementioned friend wasn't ready to give up. "Jeremy, please say it." The boy crossed his arms over his chest. "You can't make me, Michael."

"Pweeeeeease? I'll be youw best fwiend fowevew." Michael whined while he baby-talked at his pouting friend. Jeremy raised an eyebrow at him. "You're not already?" The cameraman groaned. "Ugh, just say it. Please? One time! Then I'll leave you alone!"

"Oh really?" The blue-eyed seventh grader asked in disbelief.

"Yes!"

"...You won't laugh?"

"Promise!"

Jeremy stared at Michael for a moment, still very clearly not wanting to say anything despite having his friend's word. He let out a long sigh, begrudgingly saying 'it' after a moment of silence. "Thally thellth theashellth by the theashore..." He spat out the words more than he said them, still giving Michael a (frankly adorable) death glare. Jeremy groaned. "You're thmiling, asthhole."

"I said I wouldn't laugh, I didn't say I wouldn't smile." Michael mused, earning another scowl from his friend. "Lother, I hate you." Jeremy spun on his heel to stomp away as he flipped him off over his shoulder.

\---The video ended---

 

Michael caught himself smiling, and then remembered that he was mad at Jeremy. He called him a loser! Well, there was more to it than that, but he called Michael a loser! Though in the video, Jeremy wasn't truly mad at him. Annoyed, undeniably, but he meant the term jokingly. Ugh, why is Michael defending him? They're not friends anymore! He swiped past the video and was immediately met with another one. Recorded probably a few days later, the boys were sitting against the wall of a loosely populated school hallway.

 

\---The video started---

Jeremy had his head resting in his hand while he wore a cheeky smile close to showing teeth, sitting cross-legged with his backpack in his lap.

"Ok, dude. What's up?" Michael prompted. He'd gotten a request from his friend to record him, which was a first. Jeremy actually seemed eager to have a camera on his face, but wouldn't say why. He then flashed his braces with raised eyebrows. "GueSS who kicked hiS liSp over the weekend!" Jeremy put emphasis on each of the s's, grinning wider. Michael gasped dramatically. "Jeremy, no!"

"Jeremy, yes! I can say stuff again and you can't give me shit!" He laughed in a way that was probably supposed to sound evil. "Nnnnoooooooooooo!!!!" His friend cried over his snickering. The brace-faced twelve-year-old clapped his hands on every word he said after that. "Something! Somewhere! Someone! Somehow! Mississippi!"

"I get the poooiiiiiint! End my sufferiiiiiiiing!" Michael wouldn't let Jeremy hear the end of his lisp jokes and general torment, so the fact that he couldn't do as much was saddening. He was exaggerating, obviously, but that's the kind of thing he did. Jeremy was still overflowing with glee, as he was practically shouting at that point.

"Seven hundred seventy-seven thousand seven hundred seventy-seven!"

"Ok seriously, Jer, stop. You're making a scene."

"This ain't a scene, it's a goddamn arms race!" Jeremy sang/chanted, throwing his arms up in the air in favor of clapping and talking faster. "Sally sells seashells by the seashore! Sally sells seashells by the seashore! Shally shells she-shish by the- SHIT!" This time, it was Michael's turn to laugh. "You still can't do tongue twisters!"

Jeremy shook his head in a fit of giggles. "I don't even care! I honest to God don't even care!" He pointed at Michael's phone in victory. "Haha! Suck it, loser!"

\---The video ended---

 

There was that damn word again, 'loser'. But he didn't mean it as an insult, he meant it as more of an 'I win' kind of thing. Jeremy always took pride in victories like that, he always got super giddy and it almost compelled Michael to let him win in games like Smash more often if it meant that he would get all happy and shit.

But who cares if Jeremy is happy or not? He doesn't care if Michael is happy or not! Or else he never would've abandoned him and called him a loser!

He swiped past some more. Pictures, pictures, selfies with JJ, more selfies with JJ, selfies with Jeremy, more selfies with Jeremy, selfies with Jeremy and JJ, Jeremy with a gummy worm resting on his top lip like a mustache, ah dammit, this one. The time they decided they would try to beat Halo on the hardest difficulty. A non-stop eighteen-day effort that probably could've been spent doing something productive, but was instead spent playing a game split-screen and probably drinking more Red Bull than what was necessary or healthy.

The two had crashed at around four in the morning after they'd finally beaten the game, and Michael woke up to find Jeremy curled around his left side. An arm draped over his chest, a foot slotted between his legs, a knee resting on his stomach, a head on his shoulder with hair sticking in all directions, warm breath on his neck, pretty much just Jeremy wrapped all the way around him like he was a giant teddy bear. This was a time when Michael was shorter than Jeremy, so he actually would've worked better as little spoon at the time.

Michael had two distinct thoughts at the time. One was 'oh my God I'm little spoon right now and Jeremy is cuddling me like a stuffed animal holy shit I am too gay for this twig W H A T...' And the other one was 'oh my God Jeremy does not have the right to be looking this cute right now what the hell I am too gay for this twig W H A T...'

And for both of these things, Michael decided it'd be best to take a picture since it would last longer. He knew Jeremy was a heavy sleeper, but dreaded the reality that he couldn't stay there forever and he would probably have to get up and pee at some point. And that was the story behind the selfie.

Michael mentally slapped himself when he found that he'd been staring at the picture and counting the freckles on Jeremy's face (26) when he should have been moving on. He should just speed up the process a bit, going through every single picture would likely take hours. So he sped through the camera feed and stopped at a random point, clicking on the first video he saw with Jeremy's face in it.

 

\---The video started---

Jeremy had a hand over his mouth as he was trying desperately to suppress giggles, hood on his black jacket flipped up as he sat cross-legged once again. This time, on Michael's bed in a sort of nest of blankets. His other hand held one of the drawstrings up to his face as well, twirling it all about. "Jeremy, calm down! You sound like you're gonna piss yourself!" Michael laughed, making Jeremy laugh harder.

He tried sputtering out some words, tossing a pillow at the cameraman when he ultimately failed to say anything coherent. "I can't say it if I'm laughing, shithead! Gimme a second!" Michael gave a fake sigh of exasperation. "Jeremiah Heere, you are something else."

Getting the last of his giggles out, Jeremy sniffed and looked up at his friend. "Ok, I'm ready." He was still wearing a big smile in all of its braced glory, making a suppressed giggling noise at the back of his throat when Michael made a face at him off-screen. "Jer, say middle." He said plainly.

"Middle."

"Say borough."

"Borough."

"Kay, now say middle school."

"Middle school."

"Now say Middle Borough Middle School."

"Middle Burrbow Biddle Spool-" Jeremy was then thrown back into hysterics, looking down and enveloping his face in his hands. "I can't! I can't say it!" He almost yelled, but shoved his face into the nearest pillow to muffle the sound. "Jesus Christ, Jeremy! It's not hard!" Michael teased. "I know! I know it's not, I don't know why I can't say this shit!"

"I don't know why you can't either, man." It seemed that no matter what, Jeremy just couldn't subside his laughter. He tried multiple times after that to say the name of their school, but could barely get past the first couple syllables before losing his cool again. "How am I supposed to say this five times fast if I can't even freaking say it once?!" The eighth grader pulled the drawstrings on his jacket as he let himself flop onto his side, his laughter turning more into the silent kind where it almost seems like the person is choking.

After a beat of the teen not moving and barely making any sound, the teen filming finally showed some worry. "Geez, are you ok, dude?" The camera wobbled as Michael readjusted to be a bit closer to the giggly teen in front of him. Jeremy wheezed - or hiccuped? - as he squeaked out a response. "I'm crying, I'm-! I can't, I'm just can't!" Jeremy lifted his bright red face as he wiped tears off his cheeks, doing his best to compose himself. "Oh. My God, Jer, you are hopeless." Michael stated, quite calmly in comparison to his friend.

Jeremy coughed into his jacket a couple times before his eyebrows knitted together upon his eyes meeting Michael's phone. "Are you recording me?" He sniffed. "No." The other teen responded immediately and suspiciously quickly. "Are you sure?" Jeremy asked in disbelief. "Yes, I'm sure I'm not recording you." The blue-eyed teen clapped and pointed at Michael's face. "Bullshit! I can see the reflection in your glasses!"

The camera jerked a bit as Michael swiped his glasses off his face and tossed them to the side, making a small 'clack' as they bounced off the headboard of the bed and landed on a pillow. "No you don't!" The boy said defiantly. Jeremy moved to his knees, leaning forward to bat the phone out of his friend's hand as said friend yelped. "You idiot, how long?!"

Michael could only laugh as he was leaning away and trying to pull his phone out of the other teen's reach. "Three minutes." He finally said, the smile very prominent in his voice. Jeremy's already red face almost seemed to darken a shade as he made an embarrassed noise. "You asshole!" He pinned Michael down on the bed and tried to wrestle the phone away from him, making the cameraman laugh even more.

\---The video ended---

 

Michael whizzed further down the page, coming around to another one of Jeremy's birthdays. His fifteenth one, where his little cousin came to visit for a double party. (This was Jeremy's favorite cousin for the simple fact that she was the sweetest goddamn angel to walk the face of the planet, and also that they both shared a birthday.)

Michael hadn't recorded any videos (much to his dismay at the time), but he had PLENTY of pictures of the fifteen-year-old boy playing with his five-year-old cousin. But it hardly mattered. He could practically hear Jeremy stating 'Joy Heere is a frickin' delight!' over the sound of the little girl's gigging as he swiped past each picture. He had also gotten his braces off at that point, so the teen was grinning like there was no tomorrow.

Michael skipped past the entire following summer.

 

\---The video started---

"I'm at 1%, let's do this."

"Alright, so that guy Rich Goranski? The one that's been giving us a lot of grief lately?" Jeremy shifted his weight from foot to foot somewhat uncomfortably, speaking just as much so. "He uh, stopped us, separately, in the hall this morning, and wrote on our backpacks with black marker. That's annoying enough, but we were just thinking like 'omo? The hellz does that mean' the entire time, uh going about the day. And..." Jeremy sighed, pinching his eyes shut and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "It took us THIS LONG to figure out that the 'noh' and 'omo' fit like a puzzle..."

The camera moved to the left onto the couch, where Jeremy and Michael's backpacks sat respectively on the older teen's couch. "And they spell out 'no homo' when put together..." After a second of putting the aforementioned 'NOH OMO' on display, the camera came back up to the younger teen shaking his head in disappointment. "I-I just can't. Right now. I'm- I'm done."

\---The video ended---

 

Michael skipped past their entire sophomore year to the middle of the summer.

 

\---The video started---

Jeremy was hunched forward in his beanbag, Xbox controller clenched between his hands while sound effects came from the TV. Of course, those sound effects were barely audible over the sound of the buttons beneath the teen's thumbs clacking loudly with his growing frustration. "Day four, hour seven..." Michael deadpanned, though it hadn't really been that long. "Jeremy Heere continues his efforts on Super Meat Boy, trying and failing to dodge saw blades and jump up walls to save Bandage Girl."

"Yeah, maybe I could do it if your phone wasn't in my face." Jeremy hissed, eyes not coming off of the screen in front of him. He jerked to the side a bit as Meat Boy barely made it to the next ledge, the final stretch to the end of the level. The teen sort of growled at the game. "You're so close, it's right there, it's right freaking- Fick mich sanft mit einer Kettensäge!" He suddenly shouted as the squishing sound indicating his character's death played, dropping his controller in frustration and falling back in his beanbag as he groaned loudly. He covered his eyes with his left forearm, showing the Pac-Man tattoo he'd gotten with Michael the previous summer.

After a moment of Jeremy groaning and muttering some words that didn't sound like words under his breath, Michael sighed. "Ok, if you're going to curse the game out, at least do it in a language I know. Can't understand you when it sounds like you're choking on plastic."

"Wait..." Jeremy's face and voice were both drained of all frustration and replaced with wonder as he turned his head to his friend. "You can't understand me?" He asked the slightest bit quieter. "Uh, no shit?" Michael said. "I don't know German, dude." The other teen blinked a couple times. "Oh my God..." Jeremy breathed, before his face lit up completely and he sprang back into a sitting position. "I can say anything I want and you can't understand me!"

"...Uh oh..."

The teen rubbed his hands together menacingly, the game and his rage induced by it being forgotten. "Oooooh I'm gonna abuse the shit out of this power!"

"Oh God, what have I started?! Dammit, Jer! What are you gonna say?!" Michael's friend laughed at his exaggeration. "Only the most insulting of things." Jeremy said just a little too happily, cracking his knuckles for emphasis. Michael himself decided he'd have a bit of fun and humor Jeremy a bit. "Holy shit, you're going to say what you really think of me! You're gonna spout out all the shit you're too nice to say out loud!"

The shorter teen chuckled in what was probably confirmation. But Michael didn't know at the time nor to this day, he STILL had no clue what the hell his friend had said. "Du bist der Grund, warum ich jeden Morgen aus dem Bett komme!" Of course, the sounds coming out of Jeremy's mouth sounded like absolute nonsense to Michael. "Aaaaaahhhhhhhh, you could be insulting me about literally anything!" The worry was only kinda there. Even if Jeremy was insulting him, it was all in fun. But he still didn't know what his friend was saying, and like anyone would, he felt out of the loop and wanted to know.

Jeremy snickered again before saying some other gibberish in a proud tone. "Deine Schönheit ist über alle Maßen!"

"Christ, I really do look like shit." It became an unspoken rule from then on that Michael would translate Jeremy's German into what he thought the boy was saying. He was obviously wrong, and it was no doubt hilarious to the one speaking the other language, but he was playing along as though he was saying the most vile things to Michael.

"Ich bin öfter in deinen Augen verloren gegangen als ich zähle!"

"I'm the most annoying person you know, I'm sure."

"Ich kann mir keine Welt ohne dich vorstellen."

"You are just so sick and tired of my shit."

"Niemand macht mich glücklicher als du."

"You wouldn't hesitate to murder me and make it look like an accident."

"Du bedeutest mir mehr als das Leben selbst."

"You hate my guts."

Jeremy rested his elbows on his knees, pausing for dramatic effect.

"Ich liebe dich."

"...What about my dick?"

The act was dropped and Jeremy completely broke character, face reddening as he sputtered behind a facepalm. Michael snickered at his friend's fluster, amused by his own bluntness. "Don't make this about that!" Jeremy squeaked, revealing some of his face. "You said it!" Michael said accusingly. "I said nothing of the sort." The shorter teen replied plainly, rolling his eyes.

"Yes you did! You said ick somethin' dick."

"You mean dich?"

"See?! Dick!"

Jeremy paused for a moment, looking up at the ceiling in thought and waving his hand around in a shrugging motion. "... Ok yeah, it does sound kinda like dick, but-"

"Dickbutt! HA!"

Jeremy dropped his hand with a reluctant smile and a shake of his head. "Well played, outdated meme. Well played."

"Anyway, I still get the last laugh cuz I have Google Translate on my side! And I can refer back to this video anytime I need to type something!" For about a second or two, Jeremy looked completely horrified. But as some sort of realization dawned upon him, he just stifled a laugh and looked down. "Wipe that stupid grin off your face, what are you smiling about? I win!"

After what felt like forever, Jeremy looked back at his friend with a cocky smile. "Good luck with spelling, loser." He mused. "It's German, almost nothing is spelled how it sounds." The boy stuck out his tongue.

"...I'm done. I just- no." More of Jeremy's laughter was heard as Michael's phone fell onto the carpeted ground.

\---The video ended---

 

What the hell had he said that day? Were Michael's translations even the slightest bit accurate? Who knows at this point, or even cares? He had no clue how to say or spell a single word Jeremy said, it wasn't like he could find out. It wasn't like it mattered anyway, he hadn't told Michael what he said before and if he thought he would change his mind now, he obviously had all of Halloween night wiped from his memory. Honestly, he WISHED he could forget it ever happened, but adorable, drunken Jeremy was still bouncing around in his skull saying 'you love me' in the most honey-sweet voice imaginable. And the pictures upon pictures of his soft face and perfect blue eyes certainly weren't helping either.

Before Michael knew it, he was at the most recent video he'd recorded, air-quotes around 'recent'. It was all the way back in August, when things were normal and Jeremy didn't have a stupid SQUIP in his head. For once, Jeremy wasn't immediately the first thing in sight. In fact, he wasn't even one of the things in sight. The thing that was in sight was the very thing curled up on Michael's side and absentmindedly licking his knuckles as his thumb hovered over the play icon.

Despite the fact that it was the last thing he recorded, he couldn't remember what the hell the video was. All he knew was that he was recording JJ from his bed and the cat appeared to be sniffing something on the ground, probably a bug or a scrap of something that wasn't food but JJ would still probably try to eat anyway.

Purely out of curiosity, Michael tapped the screen.

And God... It took a minute and a half for him to realize, but he regretted it.

He regretted it hard.

But he couldn't stop watching.

He tried to convince himself to stop several times, but then something would happen and he just had to keep watching. And several times, his thumb would be a millimeter away from the delete icon without being tapped. It would be so much easier to delete the video, but it was just so difficult at the same time.

The video was stupid nonsense and idiocy, saving it would be pointless. He was being an idiot, he was high and therefore being an idiot. He was being a high idiot at eleven at night and there was no reason for the video to exist. Yet the video played on and Michael couldn't bring himself to even pause the damn thing, he had accepted the fact that he couldn't stop watching the video no matter how hard he tried. But he had to get rid of it, he just had to. He had to delete it, it was just a tap and a confirmation away from being taken out of existence. It would be stupidly easy, but he just wasn't doing it. There was something stopping him, some kind of mental road block.

Something preventing him from erasing the video. Even though he was convincing himself the whole time it was playing that he should just get rid of it. He kept telling himself that he was better off without it in his life, omitting it was the smart thing to do. And it would be easy, there was no risk involved. He could do it without breaking a sweat. The icon was right there at his beckoned call. He could do it, anyone could. People did stuff like this all the time. It was stupidly simple, but Michael couldn't do it. He couldn't do something that a freaking toddler could do. He couldn't erase the stupid goddamn video. There was nothing stopping him, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. It was kind of just sad, pitiful even. He couldn't do the easiest thing on the entire godforsaken planet. It would take two seconds and zero effort, why couldn't he just do it? Why couldn't he just tap that little trash can and be done with it? Why couldn't he bring himself to erase it? What the actual hell was wrong with him? It was just self-torture at this point, and he couldn't let himself end it.

And finally.

After the full twenty minutes.

It ended.

 

 

  
And whatever emotion it was that Michael was feeling made him snatch up his headphones, glasses and hoodie and storm down the stairs, not paying a second thought to the feline that had fallen asleep on his arm. Hands shaking with some distinct and unnamable feeling, he plugged his possible escape method into the headphone jack of his phone, shrugging his hoodie on over last night's clothes and shoving his feet into his aggressively discarded shoes.

Michael hit 'Shuffle' and stomped out the front door, seeing that the time read 5:15 AM. As Evanescence blasted in his ears, he went through the neighborhood with the subconscious excuse that he needed air. That definitely wasn't a lie, the early-morning late-autumn outside world certainly felt better than his just-a-bit-too-warm room. But really though, it wasn't the temperature bothering him. Never would Michael say that his room felt stuffy. Honestly speaking, it was just about the exact definition of perfectly cozy.

Really, Michael was making a second attempt at a distraction since his initial plan failed and blew up in his face horribly. And what was the next thing he decided to turn to but music. He decided he would just walk in a direction and listen to the tunes. He didn't know where he was going, he just needed to go. He could've driven, but he didn't want to take the extra five seconds to grab his keys, nor the extra thirty to sixty seconds it would take to get himself situated into his PT Cruiser and back out of the driveway. Walking just felt easier at the moment. Though it wasn't the relaxing kind of walk where the only thing that matters is you and your thoughts.

Yes, it was Michael and his thoughts, and yes, you could say he was walking, but it wasn't normal-paced walking, and they weren't particularly relaxing thoughts. Overall, the teen was just tense, hands burrowed deep into his pockets and sneakers clapping against the sidewalk as he went in a random direction. At that point, it became less about losing himself in the music playing in his mind and more about going somewhere. Anywhere would do. Anywhere that wouldn't remind him if Jeremy.

That seemed like a near impossible task, there was no place Michael knew to go to that he hadn't gone to with Jeremy. Not the mall, not the park, not the orchard, not 7-Eleven, walking through his own goddamn neighborhood wasn't even really helping. So he just glued his eyes to the sidewalk and went on, trying to allow the music to drown out his own thoughts.

He was the only one outside, not like that was surprising. It was almost 5:30 in the morning on a Sunday, no one would have any reason to be out that early. But that was good, Michael needed the lack of people. Because simply put, people suck. Even though it was unlikely for anyone to pay him a second thought even if they were out in their yards or whatever, it was still reassuring that he wouldn't have to deal with seeing anyone's faces or hearing anyone's voices. No one's voices except those that were singing through his headphones, of course.

Singing, you couldn't convince Jeremy to do it unless you and the music you were singing along to were both considerably loud. That, or if Jeremy was high. Both had their downsides. While his voice wouldn't get completely drowned out to the point of being indistinguishable, it still wasn't particularly easy to really HEAR him if you were blasting the music and screaming the lyrics to the heavens. You heard his voice, sure, but you weren't hearing what he really sounded like, especially when all you can really hear is scream-singing.

And scream-singing isn't supposed to sound good.

If Jeremy was high, he would just turn into a giggly bitch. Oh sure, he would stand on the couch and sing his little heart out, but you can't really HEAR him when he sounds like a wheezy seal eighty-five percent of the time. Because Jeremy couldn't take himself seriously and would just be laughing too damn much. And sure, there were times he wasn't laughing, but you could tell he still wasn't really trying to sound good.

And Jesus, why couldn't Michael get away from this song today?

'These wounds won't seem to heal,  
This pain is just too real,  
There's just too much that time cannot erase'

Oh whatever, it's a good song regardless. Really, he should just be thankful that his phone is still alive after almost an hour and a half of watching videos he recorded of his former friend and person he's had a kinda-sorta-maybe-just-a-little-tiny-bit-totally-big-gay-crush on since like, seventh grade at the latest. At the earliest? Who knows, probably fifth, maybe earlier, does it even matter though? Even if there was a chance of that crush actually becoming something more before Jeremy got his SQUIP, there wasn't anymore.

Honestly, Michael wasn't even as bothered by that as he probably should have been. Yeah, it hurt a shit-ton, but he wasn't ever really expecting Jeremy to like him back anyway, so it was hardly like he could feel much worse. He was more upset by the fact that he had just lost his best friend of over a freaking decade. Seriously, they met when they four years old! How many friendships start that early and stay intact for that long? People can change a LOT in just one or two years, so the fact that Michael and Jeremy didn't change enough to get sick of each other in HALF the time they'd known each other was astonishing. They were by the other's side through like, ALL of their phases, not to mention the awkward puberty years with the voice and height changes and all the stupid freaking hormones floating around making people gayer for each other than they already were.

Or was that last part just Michael?

Well it doesn't matter anymore. They are still teenagers, so now would probably be as good a time as any for Jeremy Heere to realize that Michael Mell is a loser trapped in the 80s holding him back from being something greater than he already is. Which Michael didn't even think was possible because he thought that everything about Jeremy was already great. But why does his 'totally objective opinion' matter when he isn't someone who people actually find cool enough to value their opinion like Jake Dillinger?

Ugh, Jake, damn him with his perfect movie star-like everything. He's got the perfect reputation, the perfect house, the perfect sex life, the perfect jawline, the perfect thousand-dollar smile, the perfect muscles, the perfect ass-

Ok, we're getting off topic here. Wait, is there a possibility that Michael ever liked Jake?

 

 

 

 

 

 

  
No.

No, Jake is just objectively hot, there's nothing else there. Everyone wonders what it's like to bang him.

Jeremy, on the other hand, is something else entirely.

But could the same go for him as with Jake?

Jeremy isn't movie star perfect, but he's perfectly himself. He can be a stuttering, blubbering mess sometimes and smack himself for some embarrassing-but-not-really spoonerism, and seeing him either get super flustered or brush it off as if he meant to say it was always hilarious. The most confused face he would make when Michael made some dark or out of the blue random joke was great too, whether or not he would play along with it afterward. Hell, the occasional dirty joke even got humorous, red-faced reactions out of him, and he didn't need to know that it was possible that Michael was venting/projecting a little. God, the way Jeremy turned into a cuddly bastard when he was sleep deprived or high or both was just freaking heart-melting as shit. And seeing Jeremy beside him the morning after a sleepover would always bring a smile to Michael's face as he watched the boy sleep for a few minutes before waking him up with a cat in his face, making him groan at him for doing such and smacking him with any and all nearby pillows. Seeing his wonderful sleep-mussed hair would make him wonder what it would be like to run his fingers through it and maybe even tug on it a little between kisses during a passionate night of-

Ok yeah no, that's all pretty subjective.

Knowing someone for twelve years kinda makes it hard to be non-biased about qualities like that, ESPECIALLY since there's been a big fat crush squeezed in there for close to half that time. On the other hand, there's the person that everyone can agree is damn good-looking and everyone can talk about it without being judged because everyone shares the same general opinion.

Oh God, what if the most subjectively perfect guy Michael knew ever got together with the most objectively perfect guy he knew? CHRIST, wouldn't THAT be the perfect kick in the face after like, everything. Not just the years of pining coming to bite him in the ass, but how the person he was pining over - the SAME person he agreed with about Jake being a personality-less all-looks-no-brains douche - got with the hottest guy they'd gone to school with since seventh grade.

'Yes hi hello, would you like some salt with your gay bitterness and equally gay depression?'

Holy shit, that would suck.

And holy shit, why did Michael's subconscious make him walk to Jeremy's house?

Yes, his former friend's house was the first thing he saw directly across the street from him upon looking up. And the timing in the song playing couldn't have been better as the drum beat and proceeding guitar riff leading into the final chorus exploded through Michael's mind. He instinctively made a move to walk toward the house, barely stepping off the curb before realizing that Jeremy wouldn't want to see him. So instead, he just stopped. He stopped and stared at the top left bedroom window for what felt like eternity.

Jeremy's room.

Jeremy's room, where Jeremy was almost definitely still dead asleep.

Jeremy's room full of Jeremy's handheld devices and Jeremy's graphic tees and Jeremy's X-Men figurines and Jeremy and Jeremy and Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy. Michael felt like he was in some kind of movie right after a bad breakup took place that one character couldn't get over. In a way, that's kind of what it was. The ending of a best friendship was just about as bad as the ending of a relationship. Or at least that was what it felt like to Michael, he wouldn't know if he was being dramatic or not seeing as how he'd never actually been in a relationship. The closest he ever got was fantasizing about one with Jeremy, as if that was a surprise. But whether his relationship with Jeremy had been platonic or romantic wouldn't have even mattered, the song still held all the emotions that Michael just couldn't help but let take him over.

"When you cried, I'd wipe away all of your tears,  
When you'd scream, I'd fight away all of your fears,  
And I held your hand through all of these years,  
But you still have..."

Suppose it was more of a musical breakup considering the singing-one's-feelings-to-nobody aspect of the whole deal.

At that point, Michael just broke. He couldn't ignore the shuddery sobs caught in his throat or the hot tears in his eyes. The last repeating line went unsung as he dropped onto the curb and had half a mind to push his glasses up his head as not to cloud them with tears. Even though Jeremy was gone, undoubtably right there in his bedroom yet still so far away, he still had all of Michael. Michael couldn't even bring himself to be angry with him no matter how hard he tried, he just cared for him too much. But wouldn't it just be so much easier if he didn't? If he could just move on as if it didn't even mean anything like anyone else could.

God, wouldn't it be so much easier if he could just get over his stupid feelings?

As the song was ending, Michael checked the time.

5:46 AM

He had been out of the house for a half hour, and he spent that time walking to Jeremy's house in an attempt to get his mind off of that very person. Because yeah, that TOTALLY makes sense, good job. What was he doing with his life? 'Life' isn't even the right word, how could it be when everything revolved around Jeremy and staying inside staring at screens for hours on end (WITH Jeremy, no less).

Suddenly, his phone died.

 

 

 

 

 

  
Whatever, not like anyone would be trying to contact him anyway.

The only real downside was that Michael would have to make his way back home in silence.

So yeah, he was more annoyed with that than anything else. But he could still pretend that it was just one shitty thing to be furious about on top of a million other shitty things to be furious about. (One of those being Jeremy, which he wasn't actually furious about, but hey, that's why he's pretending.)

And ya know what? Screw school, what's the point in going when the only reason he ever really did go in the first place now had no reason to like him?

Screw that.

Screw school.

Screw Jeremy.

'Mmm, yeah you wish~ you could screw Jeremy~'

Screw Michael's brain being a dick.

Screw everything.

And so he stood up from the curb.

He wiped his eyes.

He turned around.

And he went home.

Thoroughly hating everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy oh boy there was a lot of stuff inspiring this depressing piece of trash huh? Ok let's see if I can remember them all. 
> 
> 'Michael (and Jeremy) In The Bathroom' by atlas_of_galaxies is a returning one. 
> 
> JJ is the creation of Prince Dew in 'while my friends were getting high/i was losing my mind' as I've stated before. 
> 
> Michael singing his emotions/the 'Hey, Jeremiah' bit was inspired by 'Nostalgia' by TheAverageDorkYoudExpect
> 
> 'Jeremy was a friend of mine.' inspired by weeziewoo's fic of the same name (tho that's kinda where it ends seeing as how their thing is Jeremy being anorexic and stuff, BUT STILL). 
> 
> Yeah, and 'My Immortal' by Evanescence was also a thing, the 'goldfish fears' thing is based off of two of my friends texting each other in like seventh grade and autocorrect was a bitch. I didn't even participate in that, but I loved it so much that's it's in this. 
> 
> I think there were some throwaway lines, like little bits and pieces that I found in other fics where I was like "ha gaAAYYYY I'm using that!" zellymaybloom had some stuff like that I think. I'm trying to give credit where credit is due as much as possible! I don't wanna be accused of stealing stuff from people, they're like little nods to creators that have made stuff I like. 
> 
> So yeah, PLEASE DONT CRUCIFY MEH I SPEAK IN REFERENCES HALF THE TIME AND IF YOU DONT BELIEVE ME JUST READ 'Why...' IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY
> 
> Also! I wanted to include the "twenty-minute video" that Michael recorded in this chapter but it would've taken FOREVER, the plot wouldn't have really moved forward, and I wanted to get this chapter up before April. So... I might make that it's own chapter... I might not... We'll just have to see...


	17. The Pitiful Hangover Hour: Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you feel a sob or tear  
> Just turn that knob and switch that gear  
> (I didn't know what to put as a summary so Heere ya go...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: oof, Jeremy and Rich in the Bathroom is getting kinda long (860 words) better split it in half  
> Also me: this chapter is over 10,000 words and I'm STILL NOT DONE!!
> 
> Oh my GOD my life has been busy!!
> 
> hhhhhhh enjoy this cuz I poured a lot of blood and sweat into it, this is longest I've taken to post a chapter to date Christ almighty..........
> 
> Edit: this chapter got formatted kinda weird but I barely care at the moment
> 
> Edit 2.0: fixed the formatting, hooray for it looking *slightly* less stupid now

12:03 PM

 

Not the time Jeremy was expecting to see upon his eyes fluttering open (not that he was complaining about that), but the digital clock with its glowing green numbers wasn't even what he was expecting to see at all. He was actually expecting to see something like his living room, with a TV hanging off the wall and an Xbox sitting atop the entertainment center. That was the last thing he remembered after all, wouldn't it make sense for him to wake up to the same sight he'd fallen asleep to? But no, he was in his bedroom. And it took him way too long to realize that what he remembered falling asleep to had happened just over eight years ago. And seeing the SQUIP standing in front of his bedroom window made him remember that 'oh yeah, THIS is a thing that's happening'. Despite that, several other things didn't quite click in his brain.

"Good afternoon, Jeremy." The computer said, favoring translucent blue hologram-looking screens over actually looking at the teen. "Or I suppose morning as far as you're concerned." Jeremy rubbed some of the sleep from his eyes while he repositioned to be laying slightly more on his back. "Where's Ronnie?" He mumbled. That was one of the things not clicking in his brain. He may have gotten some much needed sleep, but he was still kinda in that drunken state where he didn't know what was going on. The SQUIP looked up briefly to raise an eyebrow at Jeremy. "Sherwood, Ohio." It said plainly.

"What? Noooo." The teen got a bit whiney on the second word, physically and verbally pouting. How does one verbally pout, you may ask? Well, that's just one of those things that Jeremy knows how to do. "Bring her back, I miss her." In one sweep of its arm over the screens as they glitched away, the SQUIP took a look back at him with a condescending voice. "I could take the form of Veronica Sawyer, is that what you-?"

"NO." Jeremy immediately snapped, face scrunched up in a scowl. "You'll ruin her." He said all this as he sat up in a flash, instantly regretting it as he became lightheaded. He got up too fast, lovely. With a groan, he planted his face into his hands. "What exactly does that mean?" The SQUIP asked in feigned curiosity, probably jabbing at Jeremy for ambiguity in his protest. "'I'll ruin her', do you mean that I'll find a way to make her lullabies something that'll ruin your childhood? Spoiler alert, they're pretty dark as it is." To keep himself from reminiscing on such things, he thought back to last night. Or earlier that morning, more accurately, seeing as how he wanted to block LAST NIGHT from his mind completely. Though that morning was hardly any better, what with him actually feeling like he was going to die and all. Really, the pain was that bad. So Jeremy's irritability with the SQUIP had pretty much skyrocketed with the pickiness it was displaying, in addition to what had happened just over six hours ago. "Yeah yeah, I know. I say stuff without knowing what I'm-"

"Language."

"-what the hell, I'm talking about. And about how people can't read my mind and I have to be more specific and blah blah, blabbity blah, I get it." As Jeremy started rubbing circles into his tired eyes, he allowed himself the opportunity to call the chip in his brain out for acting childish for the sake of annoying him. "But you CAN read my mind, so what are you getting so pissy about?" The SQUIP shook its head. "This isn't the hill you want to die on, Jeremy. You have homework, get to it." With a reluctant sigh, the boy reached over the edge of his bed and pulled his backpack closer, taking out his school binder and opening it over his criss-crossed legs.

As he situated himself with a pencil in his hand and math homework underneath it, the SQUIP paced around the room. "But really, I can't fathom what was going on in that woman's mind when she sang to you." And it's needlessly gone back to Veronica, great. The teen sighed again. "Drop it, I don't care anymore. What's number three?"

"You know how to solve it."

"Remind me."

"The quadratic formula is negative b, plus or minus the square root..."

"Of b squared minus four ac all over two a." Jeremy wrote down the formula as he said it, plugging in the numbers representing the variables. The SQUIP never made homework as easy as spouting off the answers, it always made the teen do the work himself. Which he supposed worked since Jeremy's math teacher's philosophy was 'no work, no credit', so he would have to show all the work toward the solution anyway if he was going to get full points.

He had to give the SQUIP props though, it was a better teacher than any real teacher he actually had. ("I'm inside your brain, Jeremy, I know how you learn best.") It even did the one thing that none of his science teachers could do, help him memorize the chemical form of table sugar. ("You're taking physics, not chemistry." "I know, but... Still." The SQUIP gave him a look, but complied. "It has the same number as syllables as 'sugar, we're going down swinging.'" Jeremy even tested it after a moment of thought, looking down at the letters and numbers written on the page. "We're goin' down, down in an earlier round, and C twelve H twenty-two O eleven- oh my God, you're right...") And while it would be much easier to have the SQUIP tell him the correct answers to math problems and physics formulas, ("Force equals mass times acceleration, Jeremy." "Sooo... may the mass times acceleration be with you?" "Never say that out loud to anyone ever." "Fine...") Jeremy supposed that it was a good thing that he was actually LEARNING something instead of staring blankly at a whiteboard in the middle of a classroom thinking 'what the actual hell is this?' for the first time in years.

A laugh brought him out of his thoughts, though he kept his eyes trained on the assignment. "It's no wonder you have issues!" Jeremy gave the mental equivalent of a face full of question marks. "I'm accessing your memory banks and news archives from 1989, her senior year, her inspiration for those songs are anything but kid-friendly!" The teen spoke in a bored tone upon hearing that that was the only thing the SQUIP was amused by (but not really amused since it didn't have emotions). "Lots of songs are the product of drug trips, whatever made her write hers probably wouldn't surprise me."

"Jeremy..." There was some sort of sadistic glee in the supercomputer's voice. "Her boyfriend at the time killed three students and Veronica forged their suicide notes, she should be arrested for assist in murder!" Jeremy scoffed. "Now I know you're making stuff-"

"Language."

"-shit, up."

"I can open tabs on your computer, you can read the articles whenever you like."

"I don't see the point." Jeremy said in an irritated attempt to get the SQUIP to just drop the subject already. It didn't. "It could bring a hint of context to lyrics that didn't quite make sense before. Fun fact: chaos played a much larger role than you know." The artificial intelligence was uncharacteristically gleeful when taking the subject matter and its own implications into consideration. That may not have been anything new, but the fact that it was talking about Jeremy's babysitter from kindergarten to fifth grade made it feel all the more like a personal attack. Even more so than usual. "Ignorance is bliss, I feel better not knowing." The teen spat, patience thinning more and more by the second.

While he successfully refused to the give the SQUIP the satisfaction of making him tear his eyes away from the page, an astounding alto voice was considerably harder to ignore. "We can start and finish wars, we're what killed the dinosaurs! We're the asteroid that's overdue!~"

"Argh, no! Shut up!" Jeremy grabbed the closest and largest (but also quietest) thing he could reach and threw it at the SQUIP. It was a pillow, obviously. It didn't hit the SQUIP, obviously. Well, that's not technically true. If the manifestation of the SQUIP was actually a tangible something, the pillow would have hit it. But it wasn't tangible. So the pillow fazed right through it and hit the window with a thump. After it landed on the ground, sliding down the disturbed curtains, the AI turned to look down at the fluff for a beat before turning back up to Jeremy with a bored look. "I would love to know why you thought that would work." It deadpanned. Jeremy sighed in defeat. "I didn't."

"Didn't what? You didn't think it would work or you didn't think, period?" There it went again, bugging Jeremy about vague answers to meaningless questions. Geez, and the SQUIP pestered HIM about not dwelling on things that didn't matter. "Neither, both, who cares."

"No one. Not you nor I. Keep working."

And keep working he did, however unwillingly. Much like most students, Jeremy hated math and saw no way that algebra could be used in everyday life. The only occupations he could think of where knowing math would be useful were in the scientific field (SQUIP production possibly?) or, well, as a math teacher. He heard at some point that they teach it because it helps in problem solving and logic, but still. When would knowing that eleven minus the square root of negative eleven squared minus four times three times negative four all divided by two times three equals four be crucial?

Exactly!

It wouldn't!

And after getting his answers checked off by the SQUIP, Jeremy was graced with time to look at his phone in peace. It had been turned off since last night, so he prepared himself for what would probably be an onslaught of texts from Brooke and miscellaneous Facebook messages.

That wasn't too far off from the truth.

He'd gotten four texts from Brooke, which was actually way less than he'd expected, and one from Chloe.

  
  
  


Oct 31, 2015, 7:08 PM

 

Brooke:  
<Chloe and I are at Jake's now, you on your way?>  


 

Oct 31, 2015, 7:16 PM

 

Brooke:  
<Do you need the address again?>  


 

Oct 31, 2015, 7:42 PM

 

Brooke:  
<Party started a while ago, you're still coming right?>  
<Hello???>  


  
  
  


With a pang of guilt, Jeremy reasoned that he didn't technically get Brooke's messages since his phone was turned off. So he wasn't quite lying when he said he didn't realize he'd texted her. He lied when he said he didn't realize he was late however, that was what the SQUIP was going for. But Jeremy could still tell from the triple question marks in the last message that Brooke was genuinely worried that he had flaked out on her.

Chloe's message is what peaked his interest though.

  
  
  


Oct 31, 2015, 7:30 PM

 

Chloe:  
<If you decided to bail just tell me, I'll let her down gently>  


  
  
  


Ah, that would make sense. But some part of Jeremy felt like 'gently' didn't really mean gently. Taking Chloe's desire to make Brooke jealous into consideration (and whatever her definition of 'gently' actually was), she would probably spout out some crap about Jeremy not caring about her anymore and hanging with some other girl. Or something about how he didn't care about her in the first place, which... Wasn't untrue, sadly, leading her on was kinda the plan. It didn't feel like real dating to Jeremy, but it did to Brooke. And knowing that was an icky feeling that only became worse when opening up Facebook and scrolling down a little ways.

  
  
  


Brooke Lohst:

Worst night of my life! Cheated on AGAIN! Chloe ran off and flecked my boyfriend! Ugggh!!! I was gonna do that!!! Some friend she is..... And here I thought Jeremy was different....

  
  
  


Quite a few people caught Brooke's spelling mistake, which she was quick to correct. It then became an ongoing joke in the comments to always be aware of autocorrect. But in that moment, the auto-incorrect jokes were the last thing on Jeremy's mind. One of the things occupying one of those top spaces was the 'I was gonna do that' portion of her post. First of all, he didn't think anything could've made his face redder in that moment, TWO girls - the two HOTTEST girls in the school - had wanted a slice of him that night. That was more action he'd imagined himself getting... EVER. So, um, wow. There's that.

Second, Brooke had found out that he and Chloe - ahem - 'flecked', which they didn't. Ignoring how exactly she knew (she could've been nearby when the whole ordeal took place, but Jeremy wouldn't know seeing as how the only thing he was concerned with at the time was not dying instead of where his date was), she had found out that her best friend was doing the thing - or person - that she wanted to do. From her perspective, he and Chloe had both snuck off to do the do knowing full well who and what they were doing and how Brooke would react.

And well, Jeremy was still new to relationships, but he didn't need to be an expert to know that that was a total dick move. He had quote-unquote 'cheated on her with her best friend'. And she'd been cheated on before! So Jeremy was basically no different than all those other boyfriends, even if nothing actually happened and he didn't want it to happen any more than Brooke did. So hey, that's a good thought to linger on. 'Good job, buddy! You can't even be a fake boyfriend right! Here's a blue ribbon for being an absolute steaming pile of shit!'

  
  
  


Chloe Valentine:

Another All Hallows' Eve for the scrapbook. May not have been with who I was going for, but I still got what I came for~ <3  ;)

  
  
  


Oh right, didn't Christine say Jake went upstairs to bang Chloe? Welp, at least SOMEONE had a good Halloween. Two someones, the two that actually ended up sexing it up on Mr. and Mrs. Dillinger's linens. 'Sexing it up'? Ugh, there are too many different ways to say it. That probably shouldn't be one of them. Point is, they both had a good time and neither Jeremy nor Brooke could say the same. Brooke didn't get what she wanted, Jeremy didn't know what he was hoping for, but it sure as hell wasn't what he got. 

Curious though, what would Chloe have done if Jeremy really did flake out if she was planning on trying to seduce him since the beginning? Maybe just make up some lie about another girl. She still wouldn't get the full satisfaction of being the one to truly make Brooke jealous, but hey, Jeremy didn't know how Chloe's brain worked, he was just making stuff up.

  
  
  


Jenna Rolan:

DAAAMN, biggest crash of a Halloween party EVER! Talk about ending the night with a bang! Dudes. Rich. Set. A. FIRE. The house went up in flAMES!! They're both in the hospital, Jakey D broke his legs saving our little pyromaniac. Check it! Light show starts 11 minutes in

  
  
  


Attached was a YouTube link. But Jeremy just kept reading and re-reading the post, trying to comprehend the bundle of words. 'Rich set a fire, the house went up in flames' couldn't have meant what it implied. That wasn't literal, was it? That could be party slang, right? But how could Jake breaking his legs 'saving our little pyromaniac' relate in any way to a party setting? Unless something went horribly wrong... Unless... There was actually a fire.

There was no way this was real, it had to be some kind of dark inside joke! How could a Halloween party have gotten so out of hand that Jake's house was actually burnt down? That couldn't have been the case, it was an exaggeration! That's the joke, right? The parents leave the house for the night and say 'Alright, offspring, we'll be back soon. The eldest is in charge, don't burn the house down' and even if the place gets trashed, a fire doesn't actually start.

Jenna was the only one that said anything about a fire in her post, Brooke and Chloe didn't say anything. Rich and Jake didn't say anything either. But they didn't say anything... at all. They hadn't posted anything about the aftermath of the party, only what they were dressing up as beforehand and what they were doing at various points in the night. Although... Jenna's post said they were both in the hospital... That would be a good reason to not say anything.

Mentally demanding answers, Jeremy tapped the link and was brought to Jenna's YouTube channel TheySeeMeRolan. The video was entitled 'HALLOWEEN 2015 BITCHES' and the recommended videos below it shared similar titles, starting from 2012 and continuing to 2014. So this implied that Jenna had been invited to every Halloween party Jake had thrown since eighth grade... Which was when he started throwing them in the first place... Good to know.

Jeremy tapped the screen and the video began.

  
  
  


"Kay, go!"

Jenna was standing next to the couch, camera pointed up at the banister. A sophomore dressed as Jack Skellington was perched atop it before flipping forward and sailing down onto the couch with a heavy and ungraceful 'fwump'. Several cheers came from all around the room, garnering applause and a convenient bass drop.

The video cut to some other teens doing much the same thing, a couple even falling off the banister. Not onto the first floor, just backward into the hallway to be teased and smacked with fake weapons by their friends.

A lot of the starting portion of the video consisted of just that, which Jeremy saw plenty of in person. So he slid the marker across the bar, seeing part of the dance-off he and Jake had. He let himself be a little self-indulgent though and watched the taller teen declare him the winner with a fist bump and lots of proceeding teenage screams. So if there was one good part of the night, it was probably that.

By then, Jenna had continued recording the sophomores and juniors jumping off the banister. At one point, Jeremy caught a glimpse of himself being led upstairs by Chloe. The scene was gone in a flash, so he didn't have enough time to yell at himself to stop following the girl and just turn back. At another point, Brooke in all of her puppy dog glory was shown with a concerned look pointed at the person filming. The fast forwarded footage then showed Jenna walking up the stairs, seeing the boys that had previously been attempting to break their necks were simply sitting against their launch pad.

That was when Jeremy stopped.

"Uh, dudes? Why'd ya stop?" Jenna was harshly shushed by the teens. "What? Why?" She hissed in more of a whispered tone. One kid pointed at the bedroom door off-screen. The girl went up to the door, listening to a hushed conversation and taking it horribly out of context.

"Brooke's going to find out. Don't you care?"

"You're less cute when you're talking."

In a quiet but angered tone, the girl filming growled. "Oh he better not be doing what I think he is! Brooke deserves better!" Jenna pounded on the door, rage eminent in the procedure.

"JEREMY HEERE?" Jake yelled from the bottom of the first floor, on his way up the steps. "Yo." Jenna said surprisingly nonchalantly given the circumstances (she was probably one of the better actors in the play they were performing in), whipping around simultaneously. The boy dressed as Prince looked at a point above the camera, where the girl's face was. "Have you seen Jeremy?" He asked in pure curiosity. The camera pointed at the bedroom before dragging back onto Jake, who rolled his eyes and pressed his cheek against the door.

"Jeremy, I know you're not having sex on my parents' bed. Because if you were, I'd have to rip your balls off."  He wore a joking half crack of a smile and sounded a lot more lighthearted than Jeremy remembered him being. "GREAT! THEN YOU CAN BOTH BE BALL-LESS." Chloe's voice echoed from behind the door and Jake's smile melted away in an instant, still staring directly into Jenna's camera in shocked silence. He blinked a couple times as the all too familiar fury came into his voice.

"CHLOE?"

And so started his futile attempts at opening the locked door, which only made the anger on his face become more and more present with every turn of the knob that found no purchase. He opted for throwing himself against the door, looking as though he could break it down at any moment. "Oooohhhh shiiiit." The Banister Divers (that's just what they're gonna be called from now on) hummed, muffling laughter.

"HEAR THAT? JEREMY AND I ARE HAVING HOT, STEAMY SEX AAAAALL OVER YOUR PARENTS' LINENS!"

"No we're not! I swear we're not!"

There was even more fear in his voice than he remembered there being.

The door flung inward and Jake's glower deepened after landing on what Jeremy knew was himself. "You are so dead, Heere! Ya hear?!" The taller teen lunged, but was heard landing hard on the ground with a grunt. One noticeably disheveled Jeremy Heere was seen crawling out of the bedroom and scrambling to his feet, running down the stairs like his life depended on it, which - in his mind - it did. He narrowly missed a group of drunk girls, one member of which was Brooke wearing a betrayed and hurt look. The Banister Divers all stood up with their delightfully surprised faces and leaned over the ledge to shout down at him. "Get paid, get laid, GATORADE!" They all laughed and high-fived each other as Jenna rounded the corner to see Jake on the ground of his parents' bedroom in mild pain.

"Well, Jakey D! Ya gonna rip his balls off or what!" The camera zoomed in and out of Jake's face a few times as he got on his hands and knees, turning his head to face the girl filming. "How long have you been eavesdropping on them?" He panted as he spoke, showing that the wind had been knocked out of him. Jenna chuckled. "I've been dropping no eaves, sir."

...

Was that a Lord of the Rings reference?

Jake made a move to stand back up, but stumbled onto his side with a sick-sounding groan. Jenna giggled menacingly, demonstrating why she enjoyed being sober for a party where everyone else would be wasted. "Bet you're wishing you didn't have so many Peach Schnapps, huh?" The teen promptly flipped her off. "No thanks, I'm gay." She said cheerfully before going down the stairs and heading for the couch on which Christine sat. The girl in question had her gaze flickering between where Jake was laying on the top floor and the hallway that held the bathroom, a confused look decorating her features.

"Chrissy." Jenna's greeting snapped her out of whatever reverie she had been trying to connect the dots in. "Did. You. See that?" Christine gave a quick and concerned nod. "That was awesome, right?!" Jenna exclaimed. The shorter girl's eyes trained back onto what had to have been the bathroom Jeremy escaped into, a noncommittal shrug pulling on her shoulders. "Ehh?" She let out in an equally noncommittal way. "Pff, fine. Be that way." Jenna deadpanned, faking offense and turning back for the stairs.

The video cut again.

A guy that Jeremy recognized as a Banister Diver (but also as Dustin) was leaning against the bedroom door, listening in on Jake and Chloe, hmm, 'getting to know each other', as it were. The teens on the other side of the door were moaning unsurprisingly loudly, each one letting the other's name escape into the air. Dustin cocked an eyebrow at Jenna. "How much ya wanna bet Chloe's on top?" He smirked. Jenna scoffed. "I don't have to bet shit, I know she's on top. Madi, you look like you're about to fall over."

Jenna walked past the other teen over to who Jeremy recognized as Madeline, who was trying to walk straight and failing, stumbling into the banister a few times. She muttered something unintelligible before reeling and grabbing a flowery blue vase. Her retching echoed within the ceramic alongside the splattering of whatever wasn't agreeing with her stomach. "Eewww! Madeline, you wasted BITCH!" Jenna laughed. A couple seconds later, more laughter was heard. On the first floor, Jeremy and Christine were sitting on the couch getting to know each other in the more traditional and kid-friendly sense of the term.

The video cut again.

Madeline was standing on what looked like a folding table, wearing one sparkling stiletto on her left foot and holding the other in her right hand. As she sang along to Whitney Houston, the small group that had initially gathered steadily grew into a drunken mosh pit of sorts. A lot of those on the ground level sang along with the girl on the table, several holding their own phones in the air to record her making a fool of herself in a barely passable French accent, which Jeremy knew by now was fake. Very faintly though, he could hear someone asking something about red Mountain Dew. They seemed somewhat panicked, but the cries were quickly drowned out by those of wanting to dance with somebody.

"Ooh, I wanna dance with somebody!~ I wanna feel the heat! Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody!~ With somebody who loves me! Somebody who~ Somebody who~" Jenna still remained front and center, zooming in on Madeline's face every so often.

Anyone who wasn't looking for it probably wouldn't notice it. But right after those lines were sung, someone in a light grey hoodie could be seen ducking down and running at the bottom edge of the screen.

Jeremy.

As quickly as he was there, he was gone. He went completely unnoticed and everyone kept singing along like normal, driving home the fact that they were all too trapped in their own worlds to worry about what that random kid could've been running from. 

Or WHO that random kid could've been running TO.

Or that the person he was running to was no longer in the premises.

Presumably anyway, why would they know?

Whether her plan was to crowd-surf or she had just fallen over due to the alcohol that probably made up fifteen percent of her blood, Dustin caught Madeline as if this were a daily occurrence. The rest of the crowd cheered along with the song fading out. "Alright, show's over! Go home!" Jenna shouted as several teens made their way to the front door.

The video cut again.

Madeline was hunched over some rose bushes, hacking something up. What it was couldn't be seen from the angle Jenna was recording at, thank God. "Why do I even feed you?" She asked plainly, very clearly not expecting an answer.

The front door opened and slammed shut off-screen, the opening vocals of 'Hey There, Delilah' being heard for only a split second before the song turned back into muffled noise among the screaming teenagers. The camera spun around and - of all people - Michael was stomping down the driveway past Jenna and Madeline. No mask, no gloves, Michael. Michael with bloodshot eyes and a tear-stained face, and Jeremy could only assume that he was the cause of that.

He stared in disbelief for a moment, second guessing himself. Could someone else have been wearing a CREEPS sweater that night?

Jenna's phone followed the boy as he continued through the yard. "Hey, Creeps! Eyes are lookin' a little puffy, what were you-"

"Weed in my eye." He spat, not even sparing the girls a glance.

It was Michael's voice, it was Michael.

He had made it to the sidewalk at that point and was effectively on his not-so-merry way home. "Oof! I've been there, dude, not fun!" Madeline's head tilted up in the direction Michael stormed off in. "Heeyyyy, Creepy~ why don't we get a little freak-ay~" Her French accent was less present than ever before, proceeding into drunken giggles. Jenna's hand went on her shoulder. "No shh, Madeline, honey, you're gay."

Wait, no she's not.

"Pro tip, get your drunk to stop flirting with people by convincing them they don't like that gender. Works every time."

Pff, clever.

But her flirting wouldn't have done anything anyway since Michael swings the other way. So honestly, it would've worked just as well if Jenna had said 'No shh, Madeline, honey, he's gay.'

Jeremy didn't have time to elaborate on watching Michael leave the party after the Whitney sing-along (when it was pretty clear he left BEFORE or even DURING it) before the scene had stopped playing.

The video cut again.

"ALRIGHT, listen up cuz I'm only gonna say this once!" It was very distinctly Rich's voice, and he was very distinctly fuming. The camera came up from the grass to see the teen standing in the doorway of the house with some sort of crazed desperation in his eyes. "If I don't get some Mountain Dew Red RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR to GOD, I will kill EVERYONE at this party AND myself!" As someone that had been bullied by Rich for a little over a year, Jeremy could tell he was actually about to snap and that he wasn't just spouting out an empty threat. This thought lingered in his mind as he remembered Jenna's post.

'Rich. Set. A. FIRE.'

"Dude! No one know what you're talking about! There's no such thing as red Mountain Dew." Jenna emphasized each word as if she were talking to a child that had chosen not to follow directions one too many times. As Rich very clearly made a move to yell at her, he clenched his shaking fists with his mouth pressed into a thin line, honestly looking like he would explode. He exhaled sharply, too quick and harsh to be a sigh. "Yes, there is." He hissed, putting two fingers to his temple and blinking something back. "It was discontinued in the 90s, alright?! My patience is running dangerously thin, Jenna! Now do you have any or not?!"

Jenna sighed in exasperation. "For the trillionth time, no! If it was discontinued, then maybe that's why no one has it!" Rich let out a scarily frustrated growl and punched the doorframe, muttering curse words under his breath and looking as though he was about to strangle someone. After another fed-up groan, he spun on his heel back into the house, slamming the door behind him. He could be heard stomping through the house, confused yelps indicating that he was pushing through people to get somewhere. 

"Jesus, his temper is shorter than he is."

Jenna continued into a one-sided conversation with Madeline, which Jeremy opted to skip past.

He was pretty sure his heart completely stopped when he saw the time stamp amongst the thick black smoke and the glowing orange flames.

11:23

As soon as the video resumed, screams rang out. Sophomores, juniors, and seniors alike were seen pouring out of the house. (Thank God there were no freshmen allowed.) The first ones were those to scream out a warning. "FIRE!" Still in the front yard and only a couple meters away from the building, Madeline somehow snapped out of her wasted state long enough to run to the street with her high heels in her hands. Jenna quickly followed suit in a string of various curses, jerky camera trained on the concrete of the driveway. After running to what one could only hope was a safe enough distance, she brought the camera up to capture and zoom in on the light show. Those next to Jenna were on their own phones calling 911, reporting the fire while choking on smoke and tears.

"Holy shit snacks... He wasn't joking..."

It was all the girl had the chance to say before a panicked voice, harsh and strained, stuck out above all the rest. "HAS ANYONE SEEN RICH?" Jake was seen on-screen as soon as Jeremy could connect his voice to his name. The pure terror and fear on the taller teen's face was jarring to say the least. "Jenna, PLEASE say you saw Rich run outside. TELL ME he's out here!" The situation was too grave and serious for Jeremy to even consider the possibility of making a Heere joke. "No, I'm- I'm pretty sure he's still in there. I'm sorry." Jenna's voice was lined with something that he wasn't expecting.

Sympathy?

Jake turned away and made a strange choking noise. It was most likely just a cough, but it sounded strangely like a sob. "Shit!" He cursed, voice cracking in a painful way that was harder to pass off as a byproduct of smoke inhalation. The corners of his eyes looked to be pricked with tears as the teen brought a fist up to hide his mouth. Was he actually crying? Was there just ash in his eye? Was it all just because of the fire? Were there emotions involved? Was he scared? Was he afraid of losing his home? 

Was he afraid of losing Rich?

As soon as the thought entered Jeremy's mind, Jake was running back to the burning building that he once resided in. "Holy f- Jake, WHAT are you doing?!" He didn't hear Jenna's call, weaving through various ghouls and horror movie characters to get inside the blazing house, ignoring every and all protests to him doing such.

"Where's Jake going?"

"Oh my God, Jake!"

"Jake, what the hell?!"

"Is he crazy?!"

"Where is he going?!"

"Does he know he could die in there?"

"What the shit, Jake?!"

"Jake, stop! It's suicide!"

"What the hell is he thinking?"

"Dude, Rich never made it out!"

"I think he's going back for Rich!"

"That's the firefighters' job!"

"Oh my God, he might die in there."

"He'll never make it out!"

"Guys, I think Rich started the fire."

"Is Jake gay for Rich?"

"Why else would he go back for him?"

"Why would Rich set a fire?"

"Is Rich gay?"

"Was Rich trying to kill himself?"

All the questions and conspiracies bled together into a bunch of noise among the crackling fire. Eventually, all Jeremy could hear was noise. Nothing anyone said sounded like human speech, just fear. Sirens began to gradually grow louder and louder until the shrill sound was blaring in the street. Firefighters were piling out of their trucks, barking commands at each other.

Everyone that was once a casual party-goer and hadn't yet run away from the house was bombarded with questions as to the origins of the fire, where their parents were, any injuries that anyone had, anyone that was still inside the building. It turned into cries of Jake's name. Cries of Rich's name. Rich and Jake, Jake and Rich, Goranski and Dillinger, Jake Dillinger and Richard Goranski, Rich who might be gay and set a fire, Jake who might be gay for a pyromaniac, Jake, Jake, Jake, Rich, Rich, Rich.

Shattering glass rang loud and clear into the air. For a split second, it was cheers and relieved sighs of oh my God, Jake, look over there, it's Jake, he's got Rich, Rich and Jake, Jake has Rich, Jake saved Rich, holy shit, what a badass. A hard thud and an ugly-sounding crack made everyone cringe in pained 'ooo's. After that, it was agonized screams from those that had and hadn't fallen out of the window alike and oh my God, is Jake ok, that did not sound good, that's gotta hurt, holy shit, that doesn't look right, I don't think legs are supposed to bend that way, there's no way his legs aren't broken, look at Rich, oh my God, holy shit, that's gonna leave a mark, those oughta make some sick nasty scars, what the hell, I think I'm gonna hurl, and a million other things.

In all his years of watching zombie-themed movies and playing zombie-themed video games, Jeremy had gotten used to gruesome, blood-stained scenes. He'd seen detached limbs, he'd seen pools of blood, he'd seen decapitations, he'd seen ankles twisted the wrong way, pixilated, hyperrealistic and everything in between. Either way, he'd seen it all and more. And even he had to admit that he had a hard time suppressing a gag. Jake's legs were as broken as broken could be, and he was clearly in more pain than he'd ever experienced in his life.

Three firefighters were quick to side by him and Rich, taking them off into an ambulance to be properly attended to. It was an absolutely horrific sight to see two peers that he'd decided he'd grown closer to in such a horrible state. Maybe he'd only really felt like he was officially accepted by Jake that night, maybe Rich had tormented him for half of his high school life, but he felt like he'd been watching old friends he'd known forever be injured and taken to the hospital in emergency vehicles.

And Jeremy could only watch everything in utter horror despite the fact that none of it felt real. He wasn't really there after all, he was just watching a video. Movies and games depicted fire and those affected by it all the time, but this was real life. This was a real life fire burning down a real life house with real life people screaming and running for their real lives. This was a real life Halloween party full of real life teenagers with real life families that went horribly wrong. Jake was a real life person that had really broken his legs and was in a lot of real pain. Rich was a real life person that got severely burned by a real life fire. This was a real life tragedy...

That Jeremy was almost a part of.

Jeremy was almost a part of all the noise and commotion. He was almost a part of the black smoke and billowing flames. He was almost a part of a party gone wrong.

That could have been him.

  
  
  


Why he didn't just skip to the time stamp Jenna gave in her Facebook post, he couldn't say.

Why he insisted on watching the rest of the video even after it was clear that a fire had really started, he couldn't say.

Why he watched the video in the first place, he couldn't say.

Why he scrolled through the comment section of the video, he couldn't say.

Why he couldn't stop himself from repeatedly popping his knuckles, he couldn't say.

Why he re-read comment threads to try and connect the dots, he couldn't say.

Why he began formulating his own theories, he couldn't say.

Why he felt his breaths become shorter and shallower, he couldn't say.

Why he became steadily aware of how much panic was growing in his chest, he couldn't say.

Why he went back to Jenna's Facebook post to read the comments on there, he couldn't say.

Why he felt guilty about leaving the party early and not being a part of the tragedy, he couldn't say.

Why he felt responsible for the fire, he couldn't say.

Why he thought he could have prevented it, he couldn't say.

Why he couldn't figure out how to get himself to just chill out for two seconds, he couldn't say.

Chill out.

Chill.

A shock suddenly grounded him. "Ow! What?" Jeremy hissed, wincing at the familiarity of the electricity. "You're fidgeting. I thought we destroyed those habits." The SQUIP snapped, leaning on the wall with its arms folded over its chest. That wasn't quite what the teen expected to be scolded for. If he was being honest, Jeremy thought the same thing the SQUIP did, yet there he was popping his knuckles and fiddling with loose fabric. "You made me leave the party." The words left his mouth before he knew why he was saying them. "Yes, and?" The SQUIP looked at him expectantly. Jeremy bit his lip in thought, another thing he thought he'd conditioned himself not to do. "You knew this was going to happen." He finally said. "You knew people were going to get hurt." The Keanu Reeves impersonator rolled its eyes. "And you weren't one of those people. You're welcome."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better?" He didn't mean for the words to come out so bitter or forceful, but Jeremy found that he didn't regret it. The voice in his head continued on in its condescending 'no shit' tone. "Any normal person would sleep sounder knowing they're safe." At that, the teen shrugged. "I guess I'm not normal then, huh?" The response he got in return was almost a laugh. "With the strange quirks you used to have, no. By now though, it should be an accurate label." Was it really? Was that what Jeremy was now? Was he normal? 'Normal.' What even is normal?

Seeking clarification in fields that didn't relate to the logistics of his normality, Jeremy let out a sigh. "While I would have a blast discussing and debating if Rich's sexuality had anything to do with the fire... Why did his SQUIP let him do it?" The second half came out just a bit quieter than the first.

It stopped speaking to Jeremy as if he were an idiot, but the SQUIP's tone still wasn't the most pleasant. "Rich was going through a lot of trouble at home, his judgement was in less than perfect condition. With his SQUIP disabled due to his alcohol consumption, he lacked the proper coping mechanism." Jeremy gave a single-syllable laugh. "Bullshit." His SQUIP raised an eyebrow at him, wearing the ghost of a smirk. "Oh? How so?" The boy crossed his arms over his chest. "Jenna said he didn't drink at all." By now, he was onto the supercomputer.

"Jenna Rolan wasn't with Rich during the entirety of the party."

"Dustin Kropp was."

"Dustin Kropp was high. And no he wasn't."

"There were other people at the party!" Jeremy retrieved his phone from the spot on the bed it'd fallen to and began scrolling through the long string of comments he'd all but committed to memory. "Everyone is saying they were with him at some point, he didn't drink, smoke, snort anything. He, Jenna and Christine were the most sober ones there." They were more sober than him, and even he didn't drink all that much. While he hadn't made a point of it to pay much attention to Rich at all, Jeremy did see that the shorter teen had refused drinks and drugs that various girls and guys offered him. He was as sober as he could've been, his SQUIP was as functional as it could've been.

The voice's tone was now low, indicating that Jeremy ought to back away before he does something he'll regret. "And you're saying you trust all these teenagers, who were likely high, drunk, both, or simply trying to be a part of the gossip by lying and saying they were at the party, more than you trust an artificial intelligence with all the knowledge in the world at its metaphorical fingertips?" The SQUIP snapped its fingers to punctuate the sentence.

When it was worded like that, it made the correct answer to this yes or no question seem stupidly obvious. But Jeremy didn't even need to think twice, his response was near immediate. "Yes." He glared. He's a teenager, it's his job to make the wrong decisions. The look the SQUIP gave told Jeremy that he was pushing his luck close to the breaking point, but he didn't care. If he was going to get electrocuted again, so be it. It couldn't have been anything worse than what he'd already gone through. When all dirty looks were shot and out there, the SQUIP spoke up smooth as ice and plain as vanilla. "You trust far too easily."

"So you admit that I never should have trusted you in the first place?" The boy quipped. He had never been this sassy with the AI before, but the majority of party-goers' stories not lining up with the computer's had given him an attitude. On any normal occasion, he'd keep himself from talking back to the SQUIP. But this was no normal occasion.  "I didn't say that."

"Really? I dunno, something about telling me to trust you without question and then shitting on me for giving others the same treatment really screams out 'untrustworthy lying bastard' to me." Jeremy shot back.

"I know more than you and your peers ever will."

"You weren't even active for half the party!"

"I didn't need to be. I accessed all the night's data within a matter of 0.0034 seconds and Rich's SQUIP relayed a warning back to me before he started the fire."

"You said his SQUIP was deactivated!"

"By then, it wasn't."

"I'm picking up a lot of discrepancies in your story."

"You were drunk, as was almost everyone else last night."

"'Almost', not everyone."

"And do you think that those who were the least bit sober remember all the details of every moment of that party down to the millisecond?"

"I think you're full of shit, that's what I think."

"I'm the greatest thing that's ever happened to you."

"Oh are you now? Hmm, let's see. You've insulted me, degraded me, forced me to do push-ups and curl-ups, blocked out my best friend, denied me of simple pleasures, electrocuted me, lied to me, allowed the fluster-cluck that was last night to take place, shall I go on?"

"I'm improving your life, Jeremy!"

"Well thanks! Awesome job! Look how much better my life has gotten now that you're in it! Rich tried to kill himself, Jake has two broken legs, Chloe almost had her way with me, I really, REALLY hurt Brooke, I'm no closer to Christine than I was a month ago, Michael-!" Jeremy's voice broke the slightest amount, but the subtle pitch change stuck out like a sore thumb. His eyes stung a small bit and he managed to successfully blink back the barely-even-there tears.

Michael.

Michael.

Oh boy, where to start?

He chose his next words very carefully, remaining silent for what felt like hours. "Michael has every reason to hate me." He finally said, half realizing, yet half already knowing. "And it's all your fault." The emotionless-ness of the computer's voice from then on was unnatural to put it simply. "No, Jeremy. The only one at fault here is you. I didn't make you say a damn thing in the bathroom. That was you. I took no part in your blights due to my deactivation, which I now realize shows that I over-estimated your abilities to carry our plan forward properly." The SQUIP gave a small chuckle. "Maybe if you hadn't pulled your little stunt, everything would be going according to plan."

And to think this all started because Chloe intoxicated Jeremy. To think that it was this that was the leading cause of him running all the way down those steps into the bathroom. To think that things could've gone completely differently if one element was tweaked just a little bit. Funny how one simple action made an entire life-changing moment take a turn for the worst. With this, Jeremy saw an opportunity. And like all the others he'd seen, he took it. "Ever hear of this little thing called the butterfly effect?" He asked sweetly. The ghost of a scowl made it onto the SQUIP's features. "Don't get smart with me."

"Maybe if YOU hadn't pulled YOUR little stunt, you wouldn't have to deal with me being the total screw up that I am." The scowl melted away and was replaced with a cocky smirk. "So you admit you're helpless without me."

"I'm not admitting shit. Except for how much of a bad idea you were."

There was a sudden knock on the boy's door, pulling his and the SQUIP's gaze away from the other. One Mr. Heere's confused voice was heard on the other side. "Jeremy, are you talking to yourself in there?"

Shit...

"You're on the phone."

"I'm on the phone." Jeremy said begrudgingly, loud enough for his dad to hear on the other side of the wooden barrier. He didn't want to use the SQUIP's excuse after really getting into the heat of the argument, but it was the best and easiest dismissal he had. When he was met back with a moment of silence, he assumed his father left. He hadn't. "Pretty weird phone call, who are you talking to?"

"Sarcasm."

'Way ahead of ya.' Jeremy think-said, rolling his eyes. "Christina Aguilera."

Another beat of silence.

"Whatever ya say, Private."

Socked feet were faintly heard padding down the hallway, followed by the click of a closing bedroom door.

\---

The next almost two weeks of school were hell.

While there were normally footballs being thrown as well as general joking around and conversing about the usual high school nothings alongside the hustling and bustling of the crowded hallways, they were as close to dead silent as a high school could get. Most of the energy came from Rich and Jake and the popularity that followed with them everywhere they went. The popularity still followed that of the gossip girls, but Jeremy strayed away from them as far as he could. Seeing Jenna reminded him of Jake running into his burning house to save Rich and breaking his legs getting out. Seeing Chloe reminded him of what could've happened in Jake's parents' bedroom. And Brooke...

Seeing Brooke just made him feel sad. And guilty. And like a huge jerk wad. And just overall shitty. It only became worse when she would happen to see him pass by, and whatever she was laughing about with Chloe would be completely forgotten. Seeing the heartbreak in her eyes felt horrible, and Jeremy's quickness to look away from the girl couldn't have made her feel any better. Neither could how obvious it was that he was trying not to look at her in their shared physics class.

Needless to say, they were no longer Facebook official.

And needless to say, word got out to the faculty, freshmen, and those who weren't invited to the party that Jake's house burned down. And as the days went on, more and more people were talking about Rich and Jake in the hospital.

"So who's gonna get released first?"

"Well I heard from Dustin Kropp that Jenna Rolan said she heard a nurse say that Rich won't be back in time to perform at the play next Thursday."

"So is Jake gonna come back in a wheelchair, oooor...?"

"How much ya wanna bet Rich gets put in a body bag before the end of the week?"

"He's not already in one?"

"There's no way Jake will be able to do any extracurricular where he has to run! Or swim. Or walk. Or jump. Or anything really!"

"Come ooooooon, what are prosthetics for?"

"Jenna got some pictures of Rich's burns, they look preeeetty bad."

"Have you seen the x-rays of Jake's legs? Geez! And I thought I had it bad when I sprained my wrist last year!"

"How in the goddamn did you get Jake's x-rays?"

"I didn't, Jenna did."

"How in the goddamn did Jenna get Jake's x-rays?"

"Are you kidding? She's been over at the hospital every other day since Halloween."

"Without fail?"

"Yup."

"Are we sure Jenna's gay? Cuz that's pretty straight."

At some point, Jeremy learned to tune most of it out. He would get instructions from the SQUIP every so often to listen in on their conversations, but was uninvolved for the most part.

Pretty early on in the week, Jeremy was sitting in his math class as the teacher was going over notes. He didn't bother to listen to her explanations of equations half the time when the SQUIP explained the content in a way that he could actually wrap is head around. It was a class where he sat closer to the back of the room, so he could see most of his classmates from his seat. He could also see when most of those classmates weren't at school, as shown by their empty desks. The two most obvious ones were those of Rich, who sat directly in front of him, and Jake, who sat directly to Rich's right. He and everyone else knew they weren't there and why, so Jeremy took no note of it whatsoever. However, there was a certain desk two rows up and one column to his left he didn't expect to be filled.

Michael's.

He would later deny that his eyes widened when he realized that 1.) he could see Michael, and 2.) it'd taken him upwards of thirty minutes into the class period to notice him sitting there.

It wasn't that anything about him looked different or strange, it was the fact that he could physically SEE Michael that baffled and terrified him. What was even more terrifying was seeing that 'RIENDS' was still sprawled across his backpack, he hadn't washed it off. Maybe he just couldn't be bothered, he was too lazy to do it. Hell, it'd taken Michael until December to replace his OMO bag from sophomore year, so that was no different. Jeremy had replaced his NOH bag within a couple weeks of the incident. Yes, replaced. The sharpie didn't wash off, so he'd convinced his dad to lend him some money to buy what would become the BOYF backpack a year later, which he had also just flat out replaced.

And both of those backpacks were just sitting in the back of his closet since Jeremy didn't have the heart to chuck them. He was surprised the SQUIP never even brought them up other than saying to replace 'the BOYF' as Jeremy had called it on September goddamn first.

September goddamn first, when he signed up for the after-school play.

September goddamn first, when Rich stopped him in the bathroom.

September goddamn first, when he found out about SQUIPs.

September goddamn first, when he spent the worst four-hundred and one dollars of his life.

September goddamn first, the day it all came crumbling down.

September 1, 2015: The one and only day that they were truly BOYF and RIENDS.

The teacher had been using popsicle sticks with the students' names written on them to call on those to answer questions. The next stick she chose simply led to her mumbling 'he's not here' to herself, so she plucked another stick from the tin can and glanced at it. "Jeremy H., what did you get?"

Damn it, why couldn't it have been Jeremy A.?

The teen startled and looked up at the whiteboard, seeing the older woman looking at him expectantly. "Uh, which question are we on?" Jeremy blinked, flipping his paper over to look for the equation that matched the one on the board. He'd already done all the work rather than solving each question along with the class, so he was a bit lost. "Number five." The teacher replied. "What did you get as your answer?" Finding the problem, Jeremy repeated back the decimal he'd circled. "7.34 meters?"

The teacher turned and wrote the number on the board after giving him a congratulatory 'good' and moving on. Out of habit, Jeremy looked up to Michael, who hadn't turned around to give him a thumbs up for bullshitting his way through what would have normally been a high anxiety moment.

Here's the thing with that. It wasn't the first time Jeremy had answered a question when he was unexpectedly called on while SQUIPped, but Michael had been blocked from his optic nerves during all those times until just today. So since he actually saw the other teen in his seat, his first instinct was to look up and see Michael smiling back at him.

In hindsight, he shouldn't have expected the silent reassurance.

He didn't deserve it after all.

Not after the things he said on Halloween.

Not after what he called Michael.

'Loser.'

Optic Nerve Blocking: On

When Jeremy glanced back up, he still saw RIENDS and a red hoodie. So he tried again.

Optic Nerve Blocking: On

"I don't understand the request." The disembodied voice said.

Panic Mode: Engaged

'Why can I still see Michael? Aren't you supposed to be blocking him??'

"Now why would I do that?"

'Because it was your idea in the first place? He's a link to Jeremy 1.0 and all that horse shit?'

"Keep working."

'How can I keep working when I have a constant reminder of Halloween sitting right over there?!' He was thinking more desperately at this point, trying to pretend he was working but still ultimately training his gaze on Michael. He tried to distract himself by taking the worksheet a girl had passed back to him. The SQUIP's tone was calm and collected. "Just do your work, Jeremy. It's not the end of the world."

Right, of course not. First thing you do when you get an assignment, write your name on it. Easy, that's preschool stuff. Jeremy Heere, everything have the right amount of e's? Ok, good. Date, date, what's the date? Not October anymore, November. The play opens next Thursday. Or is it this Thursday? Why isn't there a freaking calendar in here? His phone's home screen shows the date and time, but there's a strict no phone policy in math. God, how many times did Jeremy see Brooke in physics? How many school days has it been since Halloween? He didn't go to school the day after the holiday, was he supposed to? Was there work he was supposed to make up? Could he just get the work from Micha- wait nope, not his friend anymore, absolutely hates his guts. Did he miss any rehearsals for the play? Would he have to ask Christine for blocking pointers? Oh God, tech week is going to be hell. Or was it already hell? Is it currently hell? When the hell is opening night?! How many days until Thursday, Thursday... Thursday what? What day?! What day, what day is it? What day is opening night? What day is it today? What's the date?!

The SQUIP had seemingly lost all its patience and hissed at Jeremy. "Sunday was November first. It's Wednesday of the same week. Figure it out."

Sunday was November first, that's right, he slept in until noon that day. After getting woken up at around 5:30 of course, that sucked. That entire morning sucked. Anywho, Wednesday. The same week as November first, and when was opening night again? Thursday, so tomorrow? No, next week, next Thursday. That's opening night, it's a week out. Geez, that was almost a heart attack. Wait, we're not talking about opening night. We're talking about today, what's today? Wednesday, that's right. But the date, why can't he figure out the stupid date?

The same girl that'd passed him the assignment whispered 'hey' at Jeremy, making him startle again upon looking up. Usually the SQUIP would warn him when someone was about to talk to him, why wasn't it warning him? Why was it letting him be so jumpy? "You're cracking your knuckles a lot, are you ok?" The girl asked, slightly weirded out. He was cracking his knuckles? Shit, he hadn't noticed. The SQUIP would normally stop him from showing nervous ticks like that, it'd even made him stop wearing clothes with baggier sleeves so he couldn't fidget with the fabric. Nervous ticks, was he nervous? Why? What was he freaking out so much about? Shit, he was fine before he saw Michael, that must've been messing everything up. The link to Jeremy 1.0. Oh God, he was falling back into his Jeremy 1.0 habits.

The girl made a disturbed noise, and was probably about to say something to Jeremy before he blurted out a desperate question. Blurting, another un-chill move. "What'sthedate?" He gnawed on his bottom lip, as if it could've stopped the words from coming out. His ticks and fidgets were persistent today. The girl's brows knit together in confusion. "What?"

"W-What's the date?" He repeated. All the stammering's a chore. And such a stupid question, he should know the goddamn date! She thinks you're so stupid and annoying, who's dumb enough to forget what day it is? "November fourth." She replied calmly. Jeremy sighed shakily and dropped his head on his desk. "Why. Couldn't. I. Figure. That. Out." He mumbled, bonking his forehead against the wood. The girl gave a half smile. "Tech week gettin' to ya?"

Jeremy looked back up at her. "Hm?" It was tech week?

...

Oh yeah. It was, huh?

Welp, that doesn't help his anxiety at all.

"It's fine, I've done worse. Last year, I panicked because I thought I was a leading role and I couldn't remember any of my lines. So I started crying and Mr. Reyes had to kindly remind me that I was part of the ensemble and had no lines." The teen suppressed a snicker, noting that he actually recognized this girl. She was a zombie in the play, couldn't quite place her name though. She saw the amusement trickle onto his face and waved her hands a bit, shaking her head. "Nah you don't get it, I was bawling like a baby! It was ugly. I went home that night and slept for eighteen hours."

The boy sitting in front of her turned around, another vaguely familiar face from rehearsal. "I remember that! Dude, remember last year when Snyder came up to me to bug me about all the late work I had?" The girl nodded wildly, trying not to laugh out. The boy continued on. "She was all like 'just because it's tech week that doesn't give you an excuse to not turn in your work' and I was like-"

"'Bitch, I will light you on fire!'" They said in unison, laughing afterward. Jeremy found himself laughing too, very glad that work-on-your-assignment-or-it's-homework time was also you-can-talk-and-work-with-others time. The two fellow cast members kept recounting previous tech week mental breakdowns and costume malfunctions they had experienced, and by then, Jeremy's anxiety levels had dropped significantly. He was still a bit on edge from the whole 'I can see Michael' thing, but he could still pass off as functioning. Even if he did have a mini panic attack because he forgot what day it was. The fun stories were great background noise for him to get onto the assignment, and he couldn't help but remember when Michael would help him down from a panic attack.

It literally didn't even matter what he was saying, Jeremy was able to find a way to calm himself down as long as words were coming out of his friend's mouth. Sure, it was that easy for Michael to bring him back to Earth because, well, it was Michael, but those rules sort of applied here. It probably helped that the zombies of which there was a Midsummer's Nightmare about were talking about funny stories, so hey, that was a thing. And he was going to enjoy the humor for as long as he could. As he understood it, everyone would be at each other's throats later.

Because if there was one thing he learned from Christine talking about all the other shows she'd been in, he knew that nobody would be at their finest durning tech week.

\---

Tech week passed painfully slowly.

But November twelfth still came all too quickly.

The first thing Jeremy did when he got home that day was panic.

He'd seen Michael at least once at school everyday since November fourth.

At first, it was seeing him in math class.

Then sitting by himself at lunch.

Passing him in the hall.

Behind 7-Eleven.

Seeing a completely blank expression.

Not even getting a glance in return.

Every. 

Single.

Day.

And the announcements for the students to come see the performance of A Midsummer's Nightmare About Zombies came over the intercom each day.

And each day, Michael was wearing his headphones, ignoring the announcements.

He was always wearing his headphones. Lunchroom, hallway, even during class.

He didn't get scolded for it, none of the teachers Jeremy shared with him even seemed to acknowledge the fact that Michael was there.

When it came to Jeremy, however, it was the only thing he could do.

Time and time again, he would ask the SQUIP why is wasn't using optic nerve blocking in a panic while reverting back to his un-chill habits of lip-chewing, nail-biting, knuckle-cracking, and fidgeting, fidgeting, fidgeting.

And time and time again, the SQUIP would flawlessly wiggle away from the topic.

Jeremy wasn't even stressed that it was the play's opening night, he was more just panicking that he'd been seeing and thinking of Michael non-stop and reigniting the stupid feelings he'd been trying to push down for so long.

Something the SQUIP didn't seem to understand or care about.

In an attempt to distract himself from everything, he began to get himself ready for the play. This mostly just consisted of showering and reminding himself to be at the drama room before the 6:30 call time. Jeremy was infinitely thankful that the SQUIP had the decency to turn itself off while he showered. Because hearing its voice, with OR without visuals, was weird and uncomfortable as hell. He relished in the time to himself, taking as a long a shower as he could, within reason, of course.

He hadn't ever payed it a second thought before, but seeing that his dad still had the conditioner his mom had used in the shower was strange. Seeing it sitting in the windowsill almost everyday didn't ever make him sad or angry, it didn't even really make him think of his mother. Today though, he took a moment to really think about it.

Why did his father still have that conditioner?

It wasn't like the woman was using it. Jeremy had a couple times by accident, but he was still cleaning his hair so what difference did it make? Slightly curious, he picked up the bottle to measure its contents: it was almost empty.

He knew he hadn't accidentally used it THAT much.

The only other person that could've possibly been using it was his dad, so he took a mental note and stored it in the back of his mind for later. Jeremy made his way back to his room to dress after wrapping a towel around himself, checking to make sure the coast was clear (it was, thankfully). As he put on the clothes the SQUIP preassigned before his shower, he did some quick head math to reason that he had around fifteen minutes until he had to leave. Still somewhat on the topic of clothing, he remembered that those he would be performing in that night were being held together by like, three safety pins.

Fully dressed by then, he took advantage of one of his SQUIP's functions. "Is there a future where I'll have to bring a replacement costume for the show?" The teen asked.

"What makes you think you would need a replacement costume?"

"The one hanging in the dressing room is falling apart at the seams. It could like, explode onstage or something."

"Calculating... No. A replacement costume will not be necessary. However, you want to leave now." Not knowing how those two things correlated, Jeremy made a face at nothing. "Now?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Like, now now?"

"Stand. Go. Now."

Reluctantly, Jeremy stood from his bed and headed downstairs, grabbing a jacket on his way there. The thing he did before the first thing he did when he got home (that being panic, if you remember) was kick his shoes off. Because apparently you can't properly panic about how the guy that you're kinda-totally into is taking up more and more of your thoughts and you can't do anything about it while you're wearing shoes.

The shoes in question were more difficult to find than Jeremy anticipated, and he figured that was why the SQUIP said they'd have to leave 'now'. Soon enough though, he found what he was looking for under the table in the hall that held a few simple decorations. One of these decorations included a framed family photo that was close to ten years old. Again, something just part of the scenery that Jeremy never payed any mind to. Until today.

By the current generation's standards, it could be classified as a selfie. Or since there were multiple people, a groupie. Past Mr. Heere was holding the camera up to be pointed down at he and his family, who all sat on a blanket in an orchard on the fourth of July to watch the fireworks that'd be going off later that night. The same orchard Jeremy was taken to the day his mother left and many times before that. The woman that no one had ever referred to as Mrs. Heere had Past Jeremy sitting in her lap, whose eyes were screwed shut from laughter. He was a ticklish child then, still is today. The woman had one hand poking the boy's side and the other poking his neck, showing him mid-squirm to get out of her well-meaning grasp. Past Mr. Heere wore a goofy grin in the center of his more well-groomed at the time beard. Past Jeremy was missing a couple teeth, but his pure joy still showed through among the galaxy of freckles. Past Jeremy's mother had a plastic half-smile delicately pinned to her features, brought out by a fainter peppering of freckles on her cheeks.

Jeremy always figured he had gotten them from her, the blue eyes could've gone either way. While he could've sat on the ground all day to pinpoint which phenotypes came from which parent, the woman then ten years younger was who kept his attention. Chock it up to his predisposition to apathy toward her, but he couldn't get over how fake his mom looked in the photo. She didn't seem like a genuine human, more like a manufactured doll on a store shelf. Her smile barely looked real, it could barely even be classified as a smile. It could've been that the photo didn't age well, there were creases branching across the entire scene and the edges had slight rips and tears in them. The faded picture had obviously seen some abuse before being framed and stuck on the table.

Why was that photo still around?

"Whatcha doin' there, Private?"

A quick glance up told Jeremy that his dad was in the kitchen. He smoothly directed his attention under the small table to the foot accessories he'd initially been looking for. "Shoes." He said coolly, reaching for the shoes in question. Mr. Heere hummed. "I see that." Quickly realizing something, he continued talking when Jeremy saw no real point in it. "That reminds me, actually, you've uh." Looking from the corner of his eye, he saw his father sitting in a table stool and rubbing the back of his neck. "You've been coming home from school later and later. Where do you keep going?"

Definitely not what he was expecting. Yet, the teen answered truthfully. "Play rehearsal." The first few rehearsals of the show hadn't lasted too long after school. But as the date of their performance came closer and closer, the time in which Jeremy would have to stay after got longer and longer. Add rehearsing up with everyone trying to get used go working props into their scenes, the lighting crew being extremely hit and miss with their cues, glitchy mics, and the idiots that weren't completely off-book yet (cough cough, Chloe, cough cough) and that resulted in Jeremy not leaving the school until around 6 PM for the past few days.

"You're in a play?" Jeremy could practically hear his father's eyes widening with the sentence. "Well where're you going now?" And he could also hear the man's attempt to play it cool without seeing him. "The play. It's opening night." He may have answered in just a little bit too much of a 'no shit' tone, but there wasn't much he could do to prevent it at that point. He couldn't see why his dad was suddenly so interested in his life when he hadn't been for the past God-knows-how-long. Jeremy couldn't tell if it was a good or bad thing that the man was making a quarter-assed attempt at parenting. Whether it was good or bad, it was happening. "What are you performing?" Still being thoroughly occupied with getting his shoes on his feet, the teen settled for a one-word answer that didn't require much thought or effort to be put into it. "Shakespeare."

"Very funny. What show?"

"He won't know it." The SQUIP chimed in, though Jeremy had a sneaking suspicion the whole time that his parent would know not of A Midsummer Night's Dream. "You won't know it." He parroted the SQUIP's words, his dad brushing off the comment with some barely passing confidence. Barely passing to Jeremy anyway, because he knew his dad too well. "Please, I know my Shakespeare." Without looking up, the teen challenged his father plainly. "Name one show that isn't Romeo and Juliet."/p>

"Easy."

"Or Hamlet."

His father remained silent.

"See?"

And that should've been the end of it. But Mr. Heere was really good at dragging conversations on after they had reached a sufficient ending point, even if he had to say nothing for a good ten seconds before continuing, which he often did. It was clear he was trying to wear a joking tone, but he still sounded as though he had something to prove. "Well if you're so smart, name five shows that aren't Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet." He put emphasis on the five in his challenge.

The response was instantaneous. "Much Ado About Nothing, Taming of the Shrew, King Lear, Comedy of Errors, and Macbeth." The teen took his eyes away from his laces to briefly look up at his father. "I could keep going." Jeremy didn't even need the SQUIP's help with naming the shows, Christine not shutting up about the centuries-old playwright during rehearsals was what made his answer immediate. There was a short silence where Mr. Heere was likely sitting in defeat. Again, a thing he often did, showing he had no idea how to talk to his own son. "And which of those are you performing in?" The man asked with a hint of satisfaction. He must have assumed that his son would've spilled the beans with the 'vast' number of shows he listed off. However, he failed to notice the hidden sixth option.

"F. None of the above."

Another silence. "Hmm, clever girl..." Jeremy chose not to acknowledge the Jurassic Park reference. Finally finishing up with the task that could've taken one minute but was dragged out to take about three, he stood and made a move for the door. "If that's all you wanted from me, then I'm gonna get going-"

"Did you leave the house on Halloween night?" There was a slightly more serious tone in the words. While stunned or shocked wouldn't have been the correct terms to use, Jeremy was definitely compelled to stop in his tracks. The simple question caught him a bit off-guard and he didn't know how to answer. Luckily, he was given a helping hand.

"Disdainful denial."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The SQUIPped teen was going to resume in his tracks before Mr. Heere spoke up once again. "Did you go to that party?" Jeremy was about to pretend he didn't hear his dad and continue on his merry way until his SQUIP instructed against it. "Wait." A simple command, so he simply stopped. Didn't turn around, didn't make any protests, just stopped and waited for his parent to say something. "You didn't answer your phone." A simple claim. One that would've sounded strange to an outsider with no context. But recalling that his phone had been turned off on Halloween, Jeremy couldn't have answered if he wanted to. He may not have recalled seeing a missed call notification, but he hadn't exactly made a point to look for one. "You've stayed away from the house for hours after school's ended before, I'm used to that, but I called you three times and you didn't answer once. You always pick up the call."

There could've been a hint of betrayal in Mr. Heere's voice, but Jeremy was just waiting for his dad to shut up so he could leave for the play already. "Then you come home at almost eleven at night and zonk out as soon as you make it to your bed. Not even a 'Dad, I'm home' or anything." Though he'd already been tuning his father out, he found it even easier to do so when the voice in his head addressed him. "He'll keep going if you let him, it's old news at this point. You can interrupt him." So interrupt he did. "And it took you until NOW... To say something?" When Mr. Heere stopped upon him speaking him up, Jeremy turned around to fully see the man sitting in a bathrobe and thermal underwear. A daily occurrence, but not one he was particularly fond of. "After almost two weeks?" It was almost two weeks since Halloween, yes, but Mr. Heere said he had even noticed Jeremy staying out later before then. So where was he the whole time he could've been confronting him?

"I've been busy." Whether it was guilt or lies in the tone didn't really matter one way or the other to the boy, his father could have been parenting and he wasn't. It was annoying, but almost laughable. So the way Jeremy spoke matched both qualities. "Oh yeah? Busy doing what? NOT putting on pants? NOT going to work? NOT giving two shits about your own kid?"

"Hey! Language!"

He had wondered why the SQUIP was trying to get him to swear more at home. Now he knew. Jeremy was a little surprised that he had actually slipped in front of his dad, but like his attitude toward his SQUIP not too long ago, he didn't regret it. "Oh I'm sorry." He fake apologized. "I said that in English, didn't I? Psh, 'language', would you prefer I say it in a different one?" The teen asked in an overly-sweet way, almost baby-talking. "Ich könnte morgen wahrscheinlich sterben und du würdest es nicht bemerken." Understanding the weight behind the claim, Mr. Heere pointed a finger in protest. "That is a lie."

"I think you're the only liar here,"

"I don't know if you were referring to me as Heere just then, but-"

"Der stubenhocker." Jeremy muttered, finishing his accusation and cutting his father off. The man stopped, seeming defeated once again. Yet he wore an inkling of a disapproving look. But was he actually going to do something dad-like? Of course not. "Yeah, I said it. Now what?" Jeremy taunted, the rebellious and misunderstood teen within him becoming ever-present. "I mean really, am I supposed to believe you actually care? Where have you been all my life?" The misunderstood portion of the teen within him came even more into the light, showing the neglected side as well. "Where were you when I was beat up by seniors two years ago? Where were you when I was panicking at two in the morning over finals last year? Who bailed me out of jail when I was framed for selling heroin?" Mr. Heere blinked in surprise. "You were arrested?"

Jeremy rolled his eyes hard. "No. But you wouldn't know that, now would you? Like how you didn't know that I was in the school play this year."

"It's not exactly like you ever told me."

It was Jeremy's turn to stop in silence this time. He didn't quite know if his father was just talking about the play or in general. The former seemed the most obvious, but the latter also held some small amount of truth to it. He may not have said anything about getting beat up at age fourteen, but he didn't think he needed to when he came home that day with a bloody nose. He may not have gone out of his way and asked his dad to help him study when he was fifteen, but the man was already asleep by then and his best friend was on speed dial to help him collect his brain and goddamned sanity.

In short, he didn't feel like he had to say anything.

When Mr. Heere concluded that he had effectively silenced his son, he took on a softer almost guilty approach. "I'll admit, I might not have been there as much I could've."

"Ya don't say."

"But you can't say I never tried. I call to check up on you when you're at Michael's place." Mr. Heere gave a weak shrug. "Even if your answers aren't the most serious or specific, I like to think I'm never completely in the dark." And on and on he went, letting the words go right through Jeremy. There was no way he was going to just stand there and let his father rattle on about what little he's done to parent as if the world depended on it. Once again, tuning the man out and knowing how to properly deal with him was a breeze with the SQUIP there.

"Don't break eye contact. Make a show of pushing up your left sleeve."

As his father was midway through his sentence, Jeremy stuck out his arm and violently pulled his jacket's sleeve up to his elbow. He'd almost knocked over the picture frame sitting on the table, which he honestly wouldn't have seen as a tragedy. Mr. Heere stared incredulously at the scene of Pac-Man chasing dots on his son's now exposed forearm, who still kept his gaze trained on his dumbfounded father. "Jeremy... Is that a tattoo?"

"Sarcastic elaboration."

He didn't even need the SQUIP's permission. "Nooooo, this is Mr. Scenty. Pac-Man smells like lemons. Yes, it's a tattoo. Yes, it's permanent." He added on the last part, thinking that the man would really believe it was simply drawn-on marker if he didn't. Mr. Heere continued to gape like a fish. "When did-... How long have you had that?"

Jeremy blinked more times than he cared or remembered to count, expression morphing from confusion to disappointment to anger and eventually all three. He had never exactly tried to hide his tattoo, especially since he'd been wearing a lot more short sleeves lately. "Like, a year and a half?! Did you really not notice?!" All the boy saw was his dad still staring at his arm, mouth moving as if to form words, but not actually producing any sound. "Summer before sophomore year??? You call me up one day, ring ring!" Jeremy held his phone up to his ear and talked into it for emphasis. "'Hey, Jer. Where are you, whatcha doin'?' Oh nothin' much, just getting a matching Pac-Man tattoo with Michael. 'Huh, cool. Welp, have fun, kiddo, be back before ten!' Click." He dropped the hand holding his phone to his side and waited for whatever excuse the man was going to throw at him.

The excuse came out a bit quieter. "I thought you were joking."

"Of course you did."

"Every other time you gave an answer like that, you were joking." Mr. Heere justified helplessly, going so far as to list off examples on his fingers. "Stealing hamsters from an orphanage, burning down a haunted arcade, on the phone with Cristina Aguilera-"

"And how would you know if I was joking if you were never there?" Jeremy remarked sarcastically, even spitefully. "I could have a cardboard box full of hamsters, you don't know. You haven't seen my room lately, there could be angry spirits demanding blood sacrifices in there for all you know." The helplessness was still there, but something more annoyed bubbled up his father. "If you can't even take me seriously-"

"Why should I?" The question was genuine, if still a little on the more spiteful side. The boy shrugged with a small shake of his head. "You've given me no reason to. You've admitted to not taking me seriously, I don't think you deserve that luxury."

"So maybe we're both at fault." It was the quickest Mr. Heere had responded all evening, almost to the point of interrupting Jeremy. "But... I'm worried about you. And I'd like you to tell me. Honestly. You come and go all hours of the day doing God-knows-what, wearing these new clothes and this new attitude... What's going on with you?" Another silence, there had been a lot of that going around tonight. The coming and going had been a product of fake-but-still-kinda-totally-real dating Brooke, but no point in talking about his not-exactly-but-still-kinda-totally-ex-girlfriend. Jeremy could mentally envision the SQUIP shrugging nonchalantly. "Tell him the truth." It said matter-of-factly.

There was no way in hell that his father would believe the truth, Jeremy knew. When he finally decided to open his mouth though, he spoke slowly and deliberately as to make it clear he was being serious. "I took a pill-sized supercomputer called a SQUIP. It's in my brain, it talks to me and tells me what to do. And it's turned my life around." Mr. Heere gave him a look, something between desperation and exasperation. "Jeremy, I'm done with the jokes."

And that was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"The only JOKE here is you." The teen spat, raising his voice to almost a yell. "Have you looked in the mirror lately? I mean- ever since Mom left, you've just been sitting around waiting for her to come back! Newsflash: she's not going to! And even if she was, you know what she'd find? A loser," That damn word again... "Who's so afraid to have a life that he can't even put pants on!" He gestured to his entire father, his still rolled-up sleeve falling down into place with the motion. "How hard is it?! Did she take your decency with her or something?! Is that how it worked? She took your pants and you kept her conditioner?"

Mr. Heere's expression morphed into something unreadable. Hurt, surprise, remorse, fear, your guess is as good as any. Seeing this was when Jeremy took on a more deadly serious approach, speaking at a dangerously low pitch. "Don't think I haven't noticed. I'm sure that's not the same bottle that's been in the shower since she left." He pointed in the general direction of the upstairs bathroom, expressing all the little hidden details of the mental note he'd been mulling over. "You use it and you keep buying it because you miss her. You can't get over the fact that she's gone." Jeremy cut his father off before he got a chance to protest, all the puzzle pieces finally fitting into place. "You gave up on me because she gave up on YOU. Us, whatever. You stopped caring because she stopped caring."

And that's when it clicked.

Stopped caring.

Stopped caring.

Stopped caring.

It took eight years, but it finally made sense. Jeremy's mother left because she stopped caring. She stopped caring about her family and left. She didn't love her family anymore.

  
  
  


_ The very idea sounded ludicrous to Michael, making him scoff. "Dude, no way. That can't be it." Jeremy raised a worried eyebrow at him. "Michael, I can't remember the last time she smiled at me. I... Don't really think she ever liked me... Or if she did, I did something to make her hate me. I-I don't know." _

  
  
  


Her family did something that she didn't like and she left. Whatever it was made her stop loving her family. Something happened and she stopped loving her family.

  
  
  


_ Realizing that Jeremy thought this was a real possibility, Michael pulled back on his confidence. "Did she ever act like she was mad at you for something? Or ask you to stop or something?" _

_ "Well... No, but maybe she was just really good at pretending. Mostly, she acted like she was just... Bored? I think?" _

  
  
  


It wasn't that she hated her family, she just didn't care about them one way or the other. Something happened and she was so done that she left. She figured she had better things to do than deal with whatever made her stop caring about her family. She was bored of her family. She was bored of her son asking her to play every single day after school.

  
  
  


_ At this point, Jeremy was speaking faster and sounding quite a bit more frantic. "But maybe a long time ago, she told me not to ask her to play. And I was supposed to remember that, but I forgot and it's one of those, 'I'm only going to say this once' kind of things. Like there's stuff I'm supposed to know, but I-I just don't know." _

_ Michael gave a worried look. "You're saying 'I don't know' a lot." He was met back with frustration directed at no one in particular. "Because I don't know! It's just-! Argh! No one will tell me! And- and I think it's cuz they don't wanna hurt my feelings, but just-!" _

_ Falling on his back onto the plush hill, Jeremy's hands slapped over his face, muffling his strained voice. "Ugghhhh, I just don't knoooooow!" _

  
  
  


But Jeremy didn't know. The facts weren't quite adding up. There really wasn't anything going on in the house for her to get bored or sick of. There was nothing for her to dislike. She never showed distaste for anything. She had word searches to do. She had Wheel of Fortune to watch. For the most part, she seemed content. Or at least tolerant.

Tolerant. She wasn't enjoying her family, she was tolerating them. She wasn't having fun tickling her son that Independence Day, she was tolerating him and masking the fact that she'd rather be by herself. 'Her smile barely looked real, it could barely even be classified as a smile.'

  
  
  


_ "Michael, I can't remember the last time she smiled at me." _

  
  
  


...

No, she didn't stop caring.

She never cared. 

As Jeremy's frustration started rising, so did his voice and the strain in it. "I swear to God, you're just as bad as she is! If you actually cared about me, you'd've asked me why I was staying late after school on day one! But you didn't! You didn't care!" It made perfect sense. He got away with it for as long as he did because his father didn't find it important enough to bring up in conversation. But when he finally did mention his observation, it'd been persisting for a little over two months. He didn't find it important enough to bring up sooner. If Jeremy had left for the play tonight without running into his dad, there's no knowing if he ever would've said anything about it.

In fact, he'd gotten away with A LOT over the years. Mr. Heere had allowed his stupid teenager to go out and do stupid teenager things with other stupid teenagers who would get him into stupid teenager situations for all of Jeremy's stupid teenage years. For all those years, he had sat in the background and let it all happen. He might as well have not even been there. Just like the boy's mother. "God, you might as well piss off to another state too! It wouldn't make a difference! I'd still be running off doing God-knows-what and there wouldn't be anyone to stop me." Jeremy threw his arms out in a big shrug. "Or not stop me! Either or! Again, doesn't make a difference!"

He wasn't letting Mr. Heere get a single word in. Realization after realization after realization kept hitting Jeremy and he didn't think it was possible to stop now. The years of neglect finally made all the sense in the world. The realization being that it wasn't actually neglect, it was flat out disinterest.

His parents didn't care.

The rest of the yelling was a blur, and Jeremy's tangent went on and on without much sign of intervention. That's not to say Mr. Heere didn't try to interject, it's that he was quickly shut up whenever and if-ever he did. It was a very one-sided fight and the teen couldn't remember the rest of it very well, a sort of Schrödinger's situation where he felt as though he was both there and not. His father simply sat there, soaking up all the insults and truth bombs like a sponge. There was flickering between guilt trips of bully encounters that the man had never consoled his son about and disappointment-lined burns about how he couldn't even put forth the slightest amount of effort to put pants on. It was a sort of organized-chaos rant that jumped from topic to topic, yet it still had one recurring theme: the woman that no one referred to as Mrs. Heere. 

Somewhere along the lines, Mr. Heere had had enough. Something inside him broke and told him to do something. Whatever it was that Jeremy said about the woman he barely knew finally got through to his father to make him stand up for himself both physically and metaphorically. "Now you take that back, you sonuvab-!" But his mouth stayed clamped shut after that as he shook with several strong and indistinct feelings. He'd actually managed to say something though.  But of course it wouldn't last. Of course he would end up backing down. Of course he wouldn't actually do anything. Of course he wouldn't discipline his misbehaving, hormonal, SQUIPped mess of a son.

Of course.

A merciless grin that Jeremy had never worn before spread across his face, his tone far lighter than it should have been. "Oh no, please! Continue! What were you gonna call me? A son of a bitch?" Mr. Heere winced at the word, so subtly that it would barely look like a twitch to anyone else.

_ Yes you are, Jeremy, yes you are. _

"...Cuz you're damn right I am."

Mr. Heere started hurtfully at Jeremy for a moment, as if waiting for all the strain that'd been building to vanish. Eventually, the everlasting silence finally broke. "I could ground you."

"You know what?" Jeremy couldn't help but let it come out as a bit of a laugh. Despite the small amount of humor he saw in the whole deal, his previously used deadly serious tone made its way back into his voice. "I don't think you could." He swatted the almost-forgotten picture frame onto its face with finality, the glass cracking and clattering quietly onto the table under the photo. The shell-shocked silence that followed was deafening. Jeremy didn't break eye contact for a second. But at that point, he didn't have any reason to maintain it. With a bitter 'good talk', he spun on his heel and headed for the door. He couldn't remember if the SQUIP instructed him to or not, but he stopped after opening his exit to rub salt in the fresh wounds. 

 

"Admission is two dollars. Don't wait up."

And he shut the door.

The infuriated steps into the front yard didn't last for very long. As if being snapped out of a trance, Jeremy had just stopped. Much like the realizations upon realizations from earlier, this one smacked him square in the face. And the only way he could describe that feeling was with a question:

'What.

Did I just _ d o ? _ '

"It was a long time coming, Jeremy." The SQUIP muttered coolly. "Your explosion took eight years to build up, it was only a matter of time before it took surface."

"But..." Jeremy looked at the ground, as if searching for some kind of answer or explanation. "That didn't feel like me." He mumbled, a little guiltily and a lot confused. "Intense negative emotions will do that, remember Michael in the Bathroom?" Jeremy wished with all of his being that there wasn't a label for the incident. "But that was me." It hurt to say out loud. "Even though I was trying to mimic what I thought you'd want, that was still me. That..." He pointed over his shoulder back at the house, voice quavering for unclear reasons. "That didn't feel like... Me." He couldn't remember most of the things he had said, just that he was saying them very loudly and with hurtful intentions. He felt at a loss, something the SQUIP ignored.

"Start walking to the school."

"Walking? But didn't you say earlier that-?"

"You didn't grab the car keys."

Briefly patting himself down, Jeremy concluded that he had indeed not gotten his father's keys. "Damn it!" He was looking forward to having the SQUIP aid him in driving without having an anxiety attack about literally anything going wrong. "Is it too late to go back for them?"

"Yes."

Jeremy let out a groan. "What. Did you really think going back in the house after all that would be a good idea?" The SQUIP quipped in an instant. "Start walking." So reluctantly yet again, he did what he was told. Everything he did now, it was without wanting to. Ever since the Halloween party, Jeremy's trust and patience with the SQUIP had been dwindling and dwindling. Mostly patience over the past week, but trust even more so in recent days. That trust had obviously been compromised the morning after the party, but it wasn't until recently that Jeremy began to ask 'why' a lot more. This displeased the SQUIP seeing as how one of the first instructions it had ever given him was 'step and fetch, don't ask me why.'

And the computer's lack of a straight answer every time made Jeremy distrust it more and more. It wouldn't even spare a vague reason for its commands, just a much more sinister or intimidating form of them with the ever-underlying threats of shocks. Going over it all in his head was getting Jeremy really suspicious, and thinking back to Michael in the Bathroom (as he hated calling it) only made him more so.

  
  
  


_ "Of all possible applications for such a- a mind-blowingly advanced technology, did you once, ONCE stop to think what it was doing inside YOU?" _

  
  
  


No, he hadn't.

But now he was.

"Jeremy?"

Why did his thoughts have to keep getting interrupted by someone saying his name?

Much like every other time he'd been addressed, the teen looked up in the direction of whoever was talking to him.

"Jenna?"

The girl was looking out the open passenger side window of her car - or whoever's car it was - with a slightly baffled look. "You seriously planning on walking all the way to the school?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. She didn't even need to ask where Jeremy was going because she was going there too. Convenient, right? Being in a play does that kind of thing. Masking his jumbled thoughts with something more casual, the boy gave his answer. "Not at first, but..." He shrugged. "Shit happens, ya know." Jenna sighed through her teeth, shaking her head knowingly. "Do I ever." She sounded tired, exasperated even. Maybe she had a long day.

"Jenna is going to offer you a ride." The SQUIP said calmly.

'Thank. God.'

"Welp." The girl inside the car all but announced, shrugging and slapping a hand on her thigh and giving the lowdown. "The aux cord is shit and the radio's busted, you're welcome to continue walking if that's a deal breaker for a ride to the play." Jeremy tried not to give his acceptance speech too quickly or make it too long. "It's not, I hate walking." Luckily, that wasn't a difficult task given that he'd gotten better at short-and-to-the-point lately. Jenna cracked a side-smile. "Don't we all?" She reached over to grab a plastic bag full of makeup out of the passenger seat, unlocking the door and setting the cosmetics on her lap. "Hop on in then." Jeremy gave a simple thanks in return and took the seat she cleared. Again, short and to the point, he was learning. Once he buckled up, Jenna picked up driving and so began their journey to the play.

As to be expected, it started out silently with only the humming engine to fill the void. Jeremy knew that the rest of the ride could go one of two ways. Either there's a long awkward silence the entire way to the school and then another long awkward silence walking with the girl to the drama room, or there's small talk where they talk for a couple minutes about nothing interesting, eventually running out of topics and then the rest of the trip is filled with long awkward silences anyway. Or if there aren't long awkward silences, the entire journey is filled with awkward small talk.

Jeremy hated the idea of small talk. But he hated the idea of long awkward silences more. So he risked it.

"So, what's up with you?"

Jenna gave a humorless laugh. "You want the honest version or the PG version?" There was a sort of lightheartedness there, and Jeremy had an inkling of hope that any silences wouldn't be quite as awkward as they could be. He answered without really thinking about it. "Honest." He sounded slightly more serious than he meant to, which he didn't know if he regretted or not. "You sure?" She seemed genuinely surprised. And so, Jeremy got slightly more theatrical as to brush over the unintentional seriousness. "Sure thing, let's pour our hearts out. How has the life of Jenna Rolan been?"

The girl hummed in thought for a moment. "Kinda complete shit, and I'd rather not think about it, but..." She seemed to be searching for the right words. "It's just, weird." Internally celebrating that the interaction was going smoothly enough, the boy prompted her. "What's weird?" Again, a moment for her to search for the right words. "I guess that like, you're not asking how Rich is? Since, ya know, he's still in the hospital and all that jazz." There also seemed to be some genuine confusion, a side of Jenna that Jeremy don't know was there. He hadn't grown particularly close to her, sure, but still. He internally pinched himself at that. She may be known across the school as the Queen of Gossip, but she's still human, damn it! "And... Why would I ask you that?"

Jenna buzzed her lips, slightly annoyed. "Cuz I'm the only one that bothers to visit him." There was some scorn behind the words, but not directed at Jeremy. He could tell that he was about to get into something. Hey, still better than awkward silence. "Everyone figures that they don't have to see him because I'll be over there at some point and I can just relay the info back to them. They all talk at school wondering what his condition is like but none of them do shit to find out. It's all just 'UGH! When's Jenna gonna update us?! Mehmehmehmehmeh! I'm a whiney bitch!' and it pisses me off!" She used a whinier voice when mimicking their peers. "But I've gotten so used to it that the fact that your first instinct was to ask how I am... It's just really throwing me off, and-" Jenna stopped herself, sighing. "Never mind, you don't wanna hear all that sappy shit."

Again, he'd take the sappy shit over silence. "What if I do? It's not like we've got anything better to talk about. And music isn't an option, so you might as well spout it all off." He was nonchalant in his probing, showing that he was indeed better at playing it cool and chill. "Besides, I have no beef with you so what reason would I have to blackmail you?" Blackmail would be a reasonable excuse for not wanting to open up to someone. Hell, at lot of Jenna's gossip probably was spread across the school for some reason to that effect. 

"Yoouuuu-" Jenna started as though she were going to give a legitimate answer.  "-make a good point." The girl ended up admitting, sighing in defeat. That was where she remained, for not a very long time, thankfully. "I make it my business to know everyone's business. But no one really cares to know about mine." She sounded genuine once again, which Jeremy refused to let himself be surprised by. Jenna's a human and she has human emotions, damn it! "It's always 'So what's new with Dustin and Madeline' or 'What's the deal with that Murphy kid', it's never 'So what'd you do over fall break, Jenna' or 'I heard you saw that new movie, what'd ya think of it', so I guess it's just kinda weird that you're actually interested. Or," Jenna scoffed, reminding herself of a false reality. "Acting like it anyway."

Alright, call Jeremy a hypocrite, but he wasn't going to let the girl sit there and convince herself that gossip was all she was and that it was the only reason that anyone bothered with talking to her. Human being, damn it! "I can barely keep track of my own life, the fact that you keep tabs on everyone is astounding to me. I've got like, mad respect for that, for real." He started, hoping his improvised segue would be effective. "But you have a life too, so I dunno, I'd rather focus on someone else's life than my own right now." That certainly wasn't a lie, a good distraction from himself was almost always good.

Jenna hummed in response, seeming in thought once again. For how long had she been convinced that gossip was all she was? "How about this?" The girl prompted after a beat. "Since you've actually pretended to give a shit about me, I won't leak any info you tell me that you don't want everyone to know." So maybe Jeremy's reassurance only half-worked, but it was progress. And don't get him wrong, she's still a human being damn it, but Jenna was also still a gossip girl. Her saying that was a bold statement. "Really?" Jeremy questioned in clarification.

"Sure thing, it'll be our dirty little secret." Jenna showed some persistence, but she didn't sound like she was lying. In the spirit of not lying, she became quite honest. "You look like ass, did something happen? How has the life of Jeremy Heere been?" The girl asked, obviously echoing Jeremy from a couple minutes ago. To which Jeremy responded by doing the same thing, humorless laugh and all. "You want the honest version or the PG version?"

"Honest." Jenna responded immediately. "Don't be short-sellin' me, Heere. I poured my heart out to you, you're gonna do the same." She sounded mock-serious, but also real serious. "Mm, true." Jeremy hummed, thinking how he wanted to start. Not from the beginning, God, no. He could give an explanation as to why he looked like ass, or the best explanation he could think of as to why he looked like ass. Because if he was being honest, he barely knew what happened. Well, he knew what happened, but he didn't feel like he was really there. "Guess you could say there was a bit of a family fight, even if it was kinda one-sided." That much, he could reason.

"Oof." Jenna's immediate reaction was giving off a sort of 'heh, relatable' vibe. "Did your mommy finally give you shit about where you've been going after school everyday for the past two months?" Despite the weird accuracy in both her question and the slightly-less-but-still-weirdly-accurate description of the fight, Jeremy scoffed. "Nope. Mother Dearest left a week before I turned eight." He found a small bit of humor in how pathetic it could sound if twisted the right way. "Heh, she couldn't even make it to double digits." He saw the girl nodding along from the corner of his eye. "I know that feel. Daddy Dearest was no better. He was... Exactly as bad, actually." She said the last part as a sort of realization. "The same thing happened to me." Jeremy blinked a couple times, looking over at the slightly shorter driver. "Seriously?"

"Yup."

"No warning?"

"Just up and left."

"A week before your eighth?"

"Seven days exactly."

The boy blinked again. "Damn."

Scary.

What was also scary was Jenna's sort of joke of a reason behind the boy's family fight (he still refrained from calling it that). Replace the mommy from her sentence with dad (not daddy. Please, God, not daddy...) and it pretty much would've been spot-on. Since he and Jenna had the same experience with opposite parents leaving, he wondered if that had anything to do with the weird accuracy. And since he found the car shrinking in amount-of-words-being-spoken, Jeremy filled the gap inquisitively. "Did your... Mom finally decide to give a shit about your life today?"

Slightly disturbed-sounding, Jenna answered vaguely. "Kinda? Why?" The uneasiness was reasonable, really it was. "Cuz something similar happened with my dad. Like, scarily similar." Scary similarities that felt like something from a movie were a good reason to be sketched out about something. From a glance it looked like a vaguely Parent Trap situation, and it would've been a justifiable theory if it weren't literally impossible given the timeline and genetics and shit. It was Jenna's turn to blink this time. "Damn." The two had been really good at echoing each other. "Our lives are scarily parallel."

"Scari-llel."

And then Jeremy remembered he just made a pun.

Well shit.

Jenna snorted, but failed to repress a smile despite how much she looked like she wanted to cringe. "That was horrible." She said good-naturedly. And Jeremy found that he was smiling as well with the vague familiarity of car ride banter. "I know." He said in feigned reluctance, relaxing into the satisfaction of not getting shocked by the SQUIP for his half-assed wordplay. "Really though, it's like my parents didn't even care." No one could deny that Jeremy was being honest in why he looked like ass, life-changing revelations will do that to ya. Jenna gave a single-syllable laugh in that 'heh, relatable' way yet again. "Dude, I could've been getting into all kinds of trouble and they wouldn't even bat a goddamn eye. Didn't care where I was or what I was doing."

"Dude, same." Jeremy really could not express how much he was relating to Jenna at that moment. His revelation was a mere few minutes ago, it was kinda the freshest thing on his mind. And the first thing he got when he realized this was someone he could really talk about it with and have them understand. Jeremy didn't really know much about anyone else's home life other than Rich's alcoholic dad, Jake's parents laundering money and running from the cops, Brooke's shiny happy family... Ok, maybe he knew more than he gave himself credit for, but he did know that none of their home lives were anything like his. He was going to vent like his life depended on it, damn it! And so was Jenna, damn it!

"Happy or sad." The driver mumbled apathetically, giving an example. "Bully or no bully." The passenger mimicked, leading them into going back and forth for a short time.

"Sweet dreams or nightmares."

"Dinner at home or with a friend."

"Crush or no crush."

"Scraped knee or broken finger!"

"Honor roll or detention!"

"Passing or failing!"

"Alive or-!"

They both stopped, shocked by hearing the other's voice in unison with theirs. Neither one needed to look at the other to know that their eyes were approximately the size of saucers with the much heavier turn of the conversation. And with that, it seemed like they were both at a loss for what to do or say. The only difference was that one of them didn't have a voice in their head that gave them pointers on what to do in times like these.

"Break the silence."

It was the first time the SQUIP broke its own silent streak since Jenna had pulled up next to Jeremy. 'How am I supposed to follow that up?' The boy thought, the slight tension still lingering in the air.

"General synopsis."

With a long sigh, Jeremy was the first one to speak up. "...Parents suck..."

"You can say that again." Jenna murmured.

And so, he did.

"Parents suck."

A smile found its way back onto Jenna's face. "Heh, didn't expect you to follow through on that." Jeremy shrugged, even if the girl wasn't likely to see it since she was driving. "Didn't expect you to give me a ride to our opening night while we bitch about our parents." A smile played across his face as well, proud of himself for the quip. "Ah shut up." Jenna said, rolling her eyes. "I will do no such thing." Jeremy smirked.

The driver shoved his shoulder, the likes of which he snickered at. He began to notice the sort of comfortable rhythm that they'd fallen into and how they were talking as if they'd known each other forever. Jeremy dared to compare it to when he rode - when he used to ride - with Michael, how they would let any and all words that came to mind fall out of their mouths. It wasn't quite the same thing, it didn't have all the same emotions present, but it was still nice.

"My babysitter was a better parent than my dad ever was." Jenna said matter-of-factly. "Oof." Jeremy's turn for the 'heh, relatable' responses. "Ditto." The girl shook her head, smiling upon remembering her younger self. "One time, I called him Daddy instead of Danny."

"Mommy instead of Ronnie."

Jenna snorted. "Um. What? How do you mess up that bad?" Jeremy was confused by her confusion for a moment before remembering that Ronnie was usually associated as a male name. He snorted at himself for this. "Ronnie is short for Veronica." He clarified, to which the girl cooed at. "Aww. That is like, legitimately adorable." She smiled, and Jeremy found himself doing the same. "She took me to 7-Eleven the day my mom left."

"Whoops, that's where the similarities end."

The boy made a soft fake gasp. "No."

Jenna took the red light as an opportunity to spare him a direct wink. "Three days after for me." Ok, but it still stood that they were both taken to 7-Eleven, so that should still count. Jeremy couldn't help but look back at the memory fondly, especially since he'd been looking back on it generally. "That trip was the first time I had a slushee."

Jenna slowly began to silently laugh to herself. The passenger turned to her in fake offense. "What?" He asked, crossing his arms. The driver simply shook her head. "Nothin', I just remembered something funny." She said, starting to drive the final stretch to the school when the light finally turned green. "Oh really? Spill." She laughed to herself a little more, pulling into a parking spot and turning the car off. "Oh boy, story time. So, I was a relentless eavesdropper even when I was little, right? I'm seven years old and I'm walking through this 7-Eleven, listening in on people's conversations,"

"Like ya do."

"Like I do, and there were these two kids - I don't even know why I remember this, it was the most random thing - but I was listening to them talking, and one of them makes this stupid-ass pun about, God, I don't even- Corn nuts? I don't know, some 80s snack I think."

Jenna must not have noticed Jeremy's expression snap from content to 'holy shit w h a t' because she kept going. "And I just remember cringing so, soooo hard! I was thinking something like 'I don't know who this kid is but I don't like him' cuz I hated it that much." In his head, the boy was basically conspiring by connecting photos pinned to a wall with string and building a timeline. Could it be possible? All the while the girl kept on with her story.

"But then I realized that I couldn't stay mad at him cuz he was just hysterical when he found out what brain freezes were like, two seconds prior! Cuz ya know, he'd just gotten a slushee or whatever. He was just so funny! He was like 'Their brains literally freeze?!?!' Like he sounded so horrified!" Jenna was trying the whole time not to laugh and Jeremy was trying the whole time not to flip his shit. "And I remember thinking 'This. Bean. I need to protect this bean, he is just too much and I don't even care that he made a shitty pun.' Ya know, after he made the shitty pun."

Returning to his mental timeline, Jeremy decided it was possible. "Bullshit..." It came out as a simple murmur, stopping Jenna in her storytelling. "No way, you remember that kid?" The boy looked up so that she could full see his 'holy shit w h a t' face. "I WAS that kid." The girl almost perfectly mirrored his 'holy shit w h a t' face. "Bullshit! I want my doughnuts back." Jeremy couldn't help but laugh at that, it was also all the confirmation he needed for his theory. "Too bad, ya can't have 'em." Apparently, it was all she needed too. "Damn you, Jeremy!" Jenna proclaimed, yanking her keys out of the ignition. "God- now that I'm looking at you, it's so damn obvious. Aside from the no-shit fact that you shot up two and a half feet, the only real difference is that your teeth aren't screwed up and you have less freckles."

"Ah shut up." Jeremy said with a smile as he opened his door, remembering back to a more difficult time when he had braces. The girl picked up her cosmetics bag and the two set on their way toward the building. Jenna hadn't parked too far from the school's main entrance, so the journey inside wouldn't take much time. And so naturally, she found it as the perfect opportunity to belch out.

Because, you know, why not.

It was loud, impressive, and startled those in front of them who were also walking to the door. If that wasn't enough to prove the greatness of her feat, Jeremy's reaction was. "Daaaamn, where did that come from?" Jenna scoffed to herself. "Ladylike? Never met her." The boy cocked an eyebrow at her "Clearly."

"And if you gotta problem with that, you can take it up with the prime minister of who-gives-a-shit."

"Same though."

The group of students in front of the pair hit the handicap button to open the school door, cuz ya know, literally everyone uses that button instead of manually opening the door. By the time Jeremy and Jenna were only a couple yards away, the metal door was already beginning to close.

"Don't hold the door." The SQUIP said with some smarminess.

Speeding up to close the distance between himself and the door, he slipped through the gap that only he could've fit through. Jeremy would've looked a bit like a ninja from afar. He walked backwards into the school to see Jenna coming up behind, handle in one hand and plastic bag in the other. "You ass." She smirked as she went through the doorway.

"Witty comeback."

The teen was one step ahead of the voice in his head though. He continued to walk backwards, making a sort of 'come at me, bro' gesture at the girl. "Gentleman? Never met him." Any fake irritation on Jenna's face melted away. "Holy shit, you stole my joke!" She brought a hand up in the air. "Up top!" The boy gladly accepted the high five. They continued through the halls in a flurry of jokes and quips.

With only about one exception, there were no awkward silences in Jeremy's travels with Jenna.

Achievement unlocked: You Can Function As a Social Creature!

"Such a nerdy thing to think, Jeremy." The SQUIP snarked in the boy's ear. 'Shut up, lemme have my fun.'

The CPU stopped Jeremy in his tracks and demanded he give attention to the locker there. Jenna stopped as well, as if she had also heard the voice. There were various sticky notes stuck onto the locker that displayed lazy and mundane 'get well soon' blurbs, as well as a banner taking up almost the whole surface area, decorated with nicknames like 'Arson Boy' and 'Hot Head' with only the dial and handle exposed.

Rich's locker.

"I made the banner, then other people started adding sticky notes and shit onto it." Jenna chimed in. "Didn't come up with any of the nicknames though, felt kinda like rubbing salt in the wounds. People are always so surprised when I tell them that. Like c'mon, I may spread gossip and drop a lot of dirt on people but that doesn't mean I'm heartless." See? Human being, damn it!

"Open it." The words came out without Jeremy's consent. To say it freaked him out would be an understatement. The girl simply made a face at him. "I don't know the combination."

"05-37-23"

Jeremy didn't know the combination either.

Why did he say that?

Before he could protest and say he was just throwing out a random guess as an attempt to brush it off, Jenna shrugged and swiftly turned the dial to this number and that.

And the locker opened.

The girl gave a simple 'wow' before opening it all the way.

What. The hell.

"You're welcome." The SQUIP piped up snidely.

The metal container was mostly empty except for some loose school papers, a plastic soda bottle propped up against the back wall, and a short rectangular box sitting in the center. Jenna grabbed the box and tilted it in a few directions, examining it and listening to its contents shuffle around inside while her makeup bag hung from her elbow. "Ladies' running shoes?"

"Open it." It was just the SQUIP talking to Jeremy this time, not controlling his speech like a puppet master. The boy gingerly reached over and flipped the lid open, exposing something that made his heart sink and his stomach fill with dread.

The box was filled from top to bottom with grey, oblong pills.

"Oh my God..." Jeremy breathed. "There's gotta be enough SQUIPs for the whole school." Jenna's eyes flicked up to him, a puzzled look dotting her face. "Enough whats?"

"SQUIPs, these little pills." He fished one from the box, turning it in the light to see the circuit board pattern on one side and the engraved acronym for Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor on the other. "There's probably one for every student and teacher at Middle Borough with some to spare." He said this quieter, rolling the pill around in his palm with his thumb. "Is it like drugs or something?" The girl asked as if this were an everyday occurrence.

"No."

"Nnnn-" Jeremy began to answer in the negative until several million things ran through his head in a matter of a couple seconds. There was no way the SQUIP wasn't plotting something. It knew that Rich would start a fire at the Halloween party and made Jeremy leave early. It knew that Rich and Jake would end up in the hospital because of said fire. It knew that Jeremy would get in a quarrel with his dad today. It knew that Jenna would see him walking and offer him a ride to the play. It knew that she had a similar experience with her mother. It knew that she and Jeremy would end up bonding over their distant parents. It knew that Jenna knew where Rich's locker was. It knew there was a shoebox in said locker. It knew what was contained inside said shoebox. 

It knew what would happen if Jeremy obeyed.

So to thwart its plan, he did the opposite.

"-nnyes."

Another shrug. "Ok." Jenna took the SQUIP out of Jeremy's hand and put it in her mouth, swallowing it. And this was basically the physical embodiment of Jeremy get smacked upside the head with The 2x4 of NO SHIT™.

The SQUIP also knew what would happen if Jeremy DIDN'T obey.

Well.

Shit.

Jenna made a 'really?' face at Jeremy. "Oh don't look so surprised, I've rolled Molly before."

Why is that not surprising? And why does Jeremy's face make him look like he's surprised by that and not the big mistake he just made? "Only like, twice!" The girl said defensively before rolling her eyes and looking at the boy expectantly. "This shit sucks, I don't feel anything." Relief instantly washed over him as he remembered the one thing that separated SQUIPs from breath mints. Maybe Jeremy didn't quite mess up as badly as he thought. "You have to take it with Mountain Dew." He said, doing his best not to sound happy as he took the shoebox out of her hands.

Jenna was midway through a groan before her eyes landed on something. She reached into Rich's locker and plucked the yellow-green soda bottle from inside. "That was easy." She said with a laugh as she began to unscrew the lid.

Panic Mode: Engaged

"B-but I don't think you should-"

Too late.

The only sounds were Jenna's screams, the now empty plastic bottle bouncing on the tile floor of the echoey hall, and her clattering makeup bag of eyeshadow palettes and whatever else. And then, of all things, she began laughing. Her head snapped up at Jeremy and she had a wild look in her eye. "Dude! This is awesome!" Jenna practically sang, scooping up her cosmetics bag and snatching the box away from the boy while cheering all the way down the narrow hall into the girls' dressing room.

It was at that moment he knew...

He messed up.

"This is not a mistake, Jeremy." The SQUIP reassured gleefully. "Her home life was as bad as yours, she wasn't happy. We're helping her."

"No we're not, she doesn't need a SQUIP!" Jeremy almost yelled, the echo from the empty hall making him self-aware of his volume and making him lower his voice. "Nobody does!" He hissed more quietly, but not any less desperately. "Actually, Jeremy, everybody does." The computer shot back. "You think you and Jenna have it bad? There are at least a hundred other students at this school alone that have it worse. So how about it?" It took form in front of Jeremy and grinned.

"Let's save the pitiful children."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can ya tell I rushed the end a bit??? Wowie zowie ok geez this took forever. My brain is a little fried, when I freaking remember any and all things this was inspired by I'll put them in these notes. For now tho, I'm just SO GLAD THAT I FINALLY GOT THIS FINISHED GOD I WAS FRUSTRATING MYSELF WITH HOW LONG THIS TOOK CUZ STUFF KEPT COMING UP AND LKVNLINVJBVK VGJRHGVFVGHJ
> 
> Ok thank you see you when school is over cuz the last day is technically June 7th but the seniors graduate on the 5th and no one will come the last two days anyway hehehehehehehehehehhehehhhhhhhhhhh


	18. The Pants Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Michael reminisces on the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait an hour.  
> Timer starts as soon as this chapter goes up.

~~~  
  
  
  
August 28, 2015  
  
  
  
The first Friday of junior year felt just about like any other Friday. The difference was that an entire summer of Michael's sleep schedule being 'lol wut' was not going to be serving him well. He'd been getting back into it a little over the past couple school days, but Friday meant there was an upcoming weekend. Weekend meant no school. No school meant waking up at 6 AM wasn't necessary. Waking up at 6 AM not being necessary meant going to bed at 10 PM wasn't necessary. You can probably see how this story ends.   
  
So at 11:04 in the evening, Michael Mell was coming down from a high and very awake. He was laying in his bed, yes, but he wasn't making an effort to sleep. The lights were still on and everything. He was listening to some random playlist on his phone as he pet the purring cat next to him. This didn't last for too much longer before JJ randomly chose that it was time for him to leave.  
  
Every cat owner knows that moment, when your feline seems content with the world until its eyes widen at seemingly nothing and it scampers off. Come to find that there wasn't actually something intruding or anything else to be concerned with, the cat was just done with you. This was one of those times, leading Michael to roll onto his stomach and look over the edge of the bed's foot to observe his pet.   
  
Maybe it was because he was a bit tired, or maybe just because he's a weird person, but he couldn't help but notice how much it felt like he was watching some kind of documentary about JJ with his top-down view. He wondered what it'd be like if there was really someone narrating his cat's life, like on Too Cute or something. To satisfy his curiosity, this was what Michael ended up doing. "Here we see the brown cyclops tabby, minding his own damn business and pretending he doesn't hear me."  
  
That was boring though, just talking to nobody. But he was bored and he needed something to entertain him. What made Too Cute different from what he was doing? Then it hit him. There's always a camera. Michael didn't have a real camera though. But he had a phone camera, that was good enough. So he turned off his music and unplugged his headphones, setting them aside and pulling up his phone's camera.   
  
So there his cat was, just sniffing the carpet. Like ya do.   
  
And there Michael was, recording the cat from atop his bed. Like ya do.   
  
"'Me thinks there be a human watching my every move.' JJ says as he proceeds to sniff the carpet as if he's never seen it before."  
  
And on and on it went.   
  
Downstairs, Michael could hear the front door open, followed by a murmured conversation. Or maybe it only sounded that way because no one was shouting up the stairs to talk to him. So on he continued into his personal game before he was addressed. "Micha?" One of his fathers called up to him. Both his mothers had left a while ago for some thing he didn't remember anything about. He figured the same was about to happen with the other half of his parents. "Yeah?" He responded.   
  
"Whatcha doin' up there?"  
  
"Witchcraft."  
  
Another small amount of murmuring, a little bit of chuckling too. He waited for the eventual moment when one of the adults would say that they were leaving the house.   
  
That wasn't what he got.   
  
"Are you just gonna leave Jeremy all alone down here?" This simply made Michael roll his eyes, even if no other human in the house would see it. "Ha and ha, I'm not gonna let you get me excited over nothing like last time."  
  
The last time any (all) of his parents told him that Jeremy was downstairs waiting for him, his biological mom, Alicia, recorded Michael flying down the stairs in excitement that his friend was there. When he couldn't find said friend anywhere in the house, Lynn was giggling like a little school girl as his fathers began to tease their son with different variations of 'you shoulda seen the look on your face!' This made Michael turn completely red while his mothers told him about how cute his crush on Jeremy was, much to his fruitless denial and general dismay.   
  
He could hear his biological father, Tony, laughing downstairs at the mention of the incident while Dennis continued on. "Nah, this isn't like that!" Michael clearly heard the laughter in his voice, implying that he remembered too. The teen had no doubt this would be a repeat of that very event, only that his parents would be more insistent to get a reaction this time since he knew better. "C'mon, Jeremy, prove it. Say hi."  
  
"No."  
  
The voice sounded an awful lot like Jeremy's, he couldn't deny that.   
  
"Alright, boys, we'll be back late. Feed the cat, make sure he doesn't die. Mahal kita." The sound of the front door closing with a loud 'clack' projected through the house and left an impressive silence in its place. Michael felt as though continuing to narrate his cat's life wouldn't be right, like it would disturb some kind of peace that wasn't really there. So the silence stayed for a few seconds longer before he gave into a different variation of temptation. "Are you actually down there, Jeremy?" He called out, fully expecting to be met back with more silence.   
  
He was not.   
  
"Nope."  
  
It was the only invitation Michael needed.   
  
You could say it was because he really wanted to see the other teen, but it was mostly because Why-The-Hell-Would-Jeremy-Be-At-His-House-This-Late-At-Night-With-Literally-No-Warning-Whatsoever that he went downstairs so fast if we're being truthful. He didn't even spare his cat a second thought. With much less enthusiasm this time than the first, Michael quickly rolled off of his bed and made a beeline down the steps, not bothering to close his bedroom door behind him.  
  
Lo and behold, there Jeremy was.   
  
Sitting at the dinner table.   
  
Just.  
  
Eating cereal.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
And also wearing Michael's hoodie.   
  
Because of course he just had to make a point of being unbearably adorable.   
  
Jeremy lifted his spoon slightly in greeting, talking around what looked to be a mouthful of Froot Loops. "Sup." The only reason Michael knew he had been staring at him for three whole seconds was because he could see how long he'd been recording in the corner of his phone's screen. As his friend dipped his spoon in his bowl for more cereal, he finally found his words. Kinda. Sorta. A little bit. "Wwwwwhat. Are you doing. In my house. At eleven at night."  
  
"Eating cereal." The boy replied casually. "Why???" Jeremy rolled his eyes in false irritation. "Cuz it's food and I'm hungry." Michael couldn't tell if he actually misunderstood the question or if he was answering differently on purpose. He clarified regardless. "No, not 'why cereal', I mean 'why here???'" He realized his mistake the moment the last word came out of his mouth, Jeremy's smirk was proof enough. "Yes, I'm Heere, did you need something?" Michael sighed as the other teen chuckled into his Froot Loops. "Ha ha, very funny."  
  
"I know right?" Jeremy said with half his smirk, continuing to have a grand old time eating his cereal. It wasn't this that made Michael's brain become overwhelmed with cuteness, it was the simple fact that his friend was wearing his hoodie that he could barely comprehend. He didn't need to see all of Jeremy to be able to tell that the damn thing was cartoonishly huge on him.   
  
Truthfully, Michael just thinks the guy looks adorable in baggier clothes. This was a slight problem because most of the long-sleeved clothing in Jeremy's wardrobe went midway down his palms at shortest and past his knuckles at longest. He liked fidgeting with the fabric, Michael noticed pretty early on. Now though, he was regretting his earlier decision of ditching his hoodie on the couch as soon as he got home from school that day. Because surprise surprise, it was right there where Jeremy could grab it.   
  
And put it on.  
  
For.  
  
Some reason?  
  
Boredom?  
  
Spite?  
  
Something else?  
  
"Why are you wearing my hoodie?" Michael made sure not to sound sour or bitter when questioning him, just curious. Because that's all he really was: curious. He also made sure not to sound super surprised even though he was to some... Large degree. Although he wondered if he didn't get that across effectively since Jeremy was silent for a few seconds, becoming more interested in the contents of his bowl. "...Cuz it's warm and I'm cold." He said quietly, making Michael's goddamn heart melt. "I could take it off."  
  
"You can keep it on." The taller of the two said quickly, but not too quickly. "I just hope you're wearing something under there?" He joked. Joking was good. Joking distracted him from his internal screaming.   
  
Jeremy looked up at him with a strange look. It seemed like a cross between confusion, embarrassment, and disappointment. He shook his head slightly, pulling his shirt's collar up to peek over that of the hoodie's. "Yeah, no, I walked all the way over here in the birthday suit. Idiot." The teen said, followed by another spoonful of his colorful cereal. The feline of the house hopped up into the chair next to him, sitting down and sniffing the edge of the table. Jeremy pointed his spoon at the cat. "JJ thinks he's people."  
  
"Shit, he's evolving." Michael deadpanned, which Jeremy must not have been expecting as shown by his giggle that should absolutely be illegal. What the paler teen didn't know was that he was pretty good at improv when the opportunity presented itself, especially in the form of a video game reference. "What's this? JJ is evolving!" Michael caught on and imitated the tune that plays when a Pokémon evolves in one of the many games. Jeremy scratched behind JJ's ears in this time, the feline purring and leaning into the touch. "Congratulations! Your JJ has evolved into A Pain In The Ass!" He sort of laughed on some of the words at the end.   
  
"Are you kidding? That's him all the time." That was a joke, JJ was a pretty noninvasive cat most of the time. Except for when he wasn't, which was usually when Jeremy was in the picture. The cat did a lot of staring though, just spectating from across the room and not coming over when called very often. That was one mildly annoying thing, but not a tragedy. JJ was pretty low maintenance as well, not shedding very much or constantly begging to be fed. Saying he was a pain in the ass was an obvious joke, both boys knew this.   
  
Random fun fact: Jeremy can somehow get the perfect ratio of milk to cereal in any given bowl. He was never left with any excess milk once he had finished the actual cereal itself. It was a skill he had that Michael couldn't understand the reasoning behind or replicate, just one of those little things about Jeremy that he liked for some dumb reason.  
  
Another thing he liked for some dumb reason was seeing Jeremy in clothing that was hilariously huge on him. He knew it was kind of a common trope, but that didn't make it any less true. So when the shorter teen stood up to put his used dishes away, this would play an important role in the exploding taking place inside the taller one's brain.   
  
The hem of Michael's red sweatshirt went a little over halfway to Jeremy's knees, easily overcoming whatever basketball shorts he was wearing underneath. (Not that either of them actually PLAYED basketball, it was loungewear for the most part.) The huge sleeves practically swallowed his hands and almost instantly fell down whenever the boy tried pushing the cuffs up past his skinny wrists. Because of this, he eventually opted for grabbing his dishes through the sleeves instead of fighting with them.   
  
Needless to say, it took all of Michael's willpower not to squee.   
  
However, he kept it on the down-low pretty damn well if he did say so himself. Even more so since his friend was about to put his dishes on the counter. "They're dirty people." Michael announced. "Dirty people." Jeremy echoed, course-correcting for the dishwasher.   
  
"Did I ever tell you why we just say 'dirty people' when you should put dirty dishes in the washer?"  
  
Jeremy thought about it for a moment as he put his bowl and spoon into their proper spots in the machine. "...I don't think so, please tell me." He said, leaning on the counter closest to the kitchen entrance. The story was nothing spectacular, but it was a fun family in-joke nonetheless. "It started out with my dads saying it normally. They would say 'the dishes in the dishwasher are dirty, people.' Then my moms later pointed out that it sounds like they're calling the dishes dirty people. Ya know, instead of like, addressing the family as people. So that became the joke, we'd start saying that the dishes are dirty people and we eventually just shortened it to 'dirty people.'"  
  
Jeremy blinked as if he didn't understand a word that came out of Michael's mouth, who was about to make mention of this until a smile slowly grew across the blue-eyed teen's face. "...That was a thrill from start to finish." He half mumbled. Michael quirked an eyebrow at him. "Did you understand anything I said? Cuz you look kinda lost."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Yes what?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Yes you understood or yes you're lost?"  
  
"I understood."  
  
"Then what did I say?"  
  
The shorter teen pushed off from the counter, heading backward into the living room as he retold Michael's story. "Your dads told the people that the dishes were dirty and your moms were like 'heheh, they're dirty people' and the joke stuck. I was listening! Did you think I wasn't?" He fake scoffed, fake interrogating Michael. "Were YOU listening? I don't think you were!" Jeremy staggered over something while walking backwards, twisting around as to avoid it. Looking down showed that he had tripped over a huge pile of literally nothing. The fabric-swimming teen pointed a finger (presumably anyway, hard to tell with the gigantic sleeves) at his friend. "You didn't see that."   
  
"I didn't see that." Michael 'confirmed' cheerily. "My eyesight is shit." Jeremy was about to add something on until he almost tripped over JJ, who seemed unbothered by the whole ordeal. The owner of the cat snickered at this. "I did, however, see that." He said, which his friend responded to by squinting at him. "No you didn't."  
  
"Yes I did."  
  
The argument didn't last long, with Jeremy giving an apathetic look and plopping himself onto the couch. "Welp, I'm gonna go walk off a cliff." He said plainly, grabbing the TV remote sitting next to him with the intentions of moving it elsewhere. "No you're not." Michael countered equally plainly. "Yes I am, I am approximately three inches away from death."  
  
"Jeremy, you're grounded from dying, remember?"  
  
"Nope, it's too late. The Valkyrie have come for me and we are ascending to Valhalla." Jeremy said this a bit slower, looking around for a place to set the remote he picked up and just letting it hover. Once again, he looked somewhat lost. "You havin' a bit of trouble there?" Michael asked with a smirk.   
  
"I don't know where to put it." The hoodie-clad teen mumbled, simply dropping the remote on the ground. Michael snorted at his blunt solution to the problem, as well as his wording. "That's what he said." It took the paler teen a second, but he got the joke fairly quickly. "Oh my G- really? Didja really hafta-?" Jeremy cut himself off with a groan, hiding his reddening face with the gargantuan sleeves of Michael's hoodie.   
  
Clearly, flustered Jeremy was Heere. This, the teen recording decided to test. "Damn, your face practically blends in with that thing." Jeremy flipped him off. Creative. Michael decided then to add a dramatic flair to his teasing to shake things up a bit. Which may or may not have been a mistake given his slightly more tired state. "Shall I compare thee to a pota- I mean tomato?"  
  
"Pfffff!" This made Jeremy reveal his face, more red from amusement than embarrassment if his amazing laughter was any indicator. Michael would later deny that he wanted to cuddle Jeremy's face off in that moment, keeping the boy smiling that wonderful smile for as long as he could. Instead, he pretended to be frustrated at his friend and crush for laughing at his minor brain fart. "Shut up, I said tomato!"  
  
"You were totally about to say potato though!"  
  
"I mean, if I were to compare anyone's face to a potato, it would be mine." Michael remarked, bending down to pick up the dropped remote control and put it on the coffee table. All this while Jeremy remained a giggly mess on the couch. Sure, Michael wasn't complaining about the lingering laughter, but it wasn't entirely justified as far as he was aware. "Dude, it wasn't even that funny. Why are you laughing so hard?"  
  
Jeremy held up a finger, giving Michael the cue to wait a second while he finished giggling. "Ya wanna know what two hours of sleep within the span of three days looks like?" He pointed to himself with both of his thumbs, blowing a lock of bangs out of his face. "Meeeee." They'd only been going to school again for three days as of that afternoon. Geez, and Michael thought his sleep schedule was out of whack. "Why would you do that?" He asked, partially aware of the fact that he and Jeremy tended to text each other until one of them fell asleep, which had most commonly been Michael as of late.   
  
"Cuz my brain hates me." Jeremy replied with a stretch before lying completely down on the couch.   
  
"How so?"  
  
"It makes me remember my life's regrets from nnnseventh grade."  
  
"It's called life, Jer, get used to it. Bruce Wayne was n'seven when his parents died that fateful night in Gotham City." Jeremy was put into another unexplained fit of tired giggles. Or maybe the fact that he's very, very sleep deprived is the explanation for his giggles. Either way, Michael found the need to address this. "What are you laughing at now?" He asked, fake annoyed.   
  
"'Gotham City' sounds like 'got them titties.'"  
  
And this is how you know that Jeremy Heere is completely out of it.  
  
"...That is like, the straightest thing you've said since eighth grade."  
  
"I- Pfff- I know right???"  
  
The resident house cat casually padded by the coffee table with his tail high in the air, knocking down the remote Michael put there not too long ago. The device landed on the carpet with a soft thump. "Shut up, JJ." He halfheartedly scolded the feline as Jeremy snapped his fingers above his chest, summoning the quad pedal creature to lay on him. "Come to me, my son." He beckoned as JJ hopped up onto the couch to sniff his fingertips.   
  
"'Scuse me, bitch, that's my son."  
  
"'Scuse me, bitch, he's named after me."  
  
"You leave Jeremy Junior alone, he's just living his life." Michael went to move the TV remote from the floor back onto the short table as Jeremy Junior began licking Jeremy Senior's nose. Something that sounded sort of like a spray bottle being spritzed slipped in somewhere to interrupt his defense of his pet, though he didn't pay it any mind since it was a sound he tended to hear multiple times a day.   
  
"Hey, Micha?"  
  
"Yes, Miah?"  
  
"JJ sneezed on my face, am I cursed or blessed?"  
  
Michael thought about it for a moment. "Mmm, both."  
  
"Damn, so I've gone to purgatory."  
  
"You're GROUNDED from dying!"  
  
"Well TOO BAD! I'm performing acts of teenage rebellion and shit!"  
  
"Yeah? Well stop."  
  
"You can't tell me what to do, you're not my real mom!"  
  
"I wish I wasn't!"  
  
They were both sent into a fit of giggles. Clearly, both of the teens were too tired to function as sane humans beings. Granted, they're teenagers so they can't function as sane human beings anyway. But even more so since it was about 11:15 at night. "What is wrong with us?" Michael asked rhetorically. "Everything." Jeremy smiled with a shake of his head, making Michael wonder what percentage of his answer was self-deprecation. He was being too happy for it to be a huge margin, so he didn't worry about it too much.   
  
Jeremy put his hands in the hoodie's pockets, face turning into one of thought as he shuffled around them to decipher what it was that he felt inside.   
  
Let's just say Michael knew it wasn't a crayon.  
  
And Jeremy was fairly quick to figure this out, mischievous smile slowly spreading across his face with equally mischievous giggling to go with it.   
  
"Jer..."  
  
"Yeeesss?"  
  
"Jeremy, don't."  
  
"Jeremy, do!"  
  
"Jer, no, that's my last blunt!"   
  
"I'm gonna get stoned in your bedroom without you!" He laughed, hopping off the couch and running back into the kitchen of all places. "Bedroom? Really? Not even basement?"  
  
"Nope! It'll be easier to air out anyway because window."  
  
"'Because window' is so grammatically correct."  
  
"Shut up. Lighter, lighterlighterlighter, where's a lighter?" Jeremy stood on his tiptoes and patted a hand around on top of the fridge, resulting in the jingling of keys, shuffling of paper, clack of a lighter- "Aha!" The teen swiped it off the fridge and made a break for the stairs. Michael chased after him with protests relating to his dwindling weed stash. Said protests went without notice, exemplified by the various clicks indicating that Jeremy was attempting to ignite the lighter. Both teens took a hard left into Michael's room with Jeremy falling into the beanbag on the far wall, coughing up puffs of smoke between chuckles.   
  
Well, he won.   
  
Michael gave a defeated sigh. "You ass." He said, flopping into the free beanbag. "Yes indeedy doo I am." Jeremy replied cheerfully. Again, self-deprecation or spite? Hard to tell, but assumed to be mostly spite. It seemed that Jeremy liked to joke about less happy subjects as a way to distract from the fact that the world sucks. But it was also a half and half thing, sometimes he's happily joking around and other times he's on the edge of a mental breakdown. Luckily, it's stupidly easy to tell when each is happening.   
  
Because, well, duh.   
  
Really, whether Michael had gotten the blunt away from Jeremy or not wouldn't have mattered much to him. They both would've ended up in his room (not like that, ya pervert, get your head outta the gutter) and his room would still be lit by the desk lamp on the dresser and orange lava lamp on the bedside table, casting the room in a warm glow. It was the same lava lamp Jeremy had gotten Michael for his sixteenth birthday, he'd really gone above and beyond this year.   
  
God, he was such a sweetheart. He didn't even need to try most the time, much like how he didn't need to try to be cute for Michael to view him as such. The way he interacted with JJ as if the cat were his own was sweet and endearing, his geeky and extensive knowledge of X-23 and other comic book characters was something Michael could listen to for hours, Jesus- the little What Thing he does when he's confused? Adorable. And that's all just personality shit, that doesn't even include how cute Jeremy was physically.   
  
"Why're you looking at me like that?"  
  
Shit, was Michael staring longingly again? Whatever, he could blame it on the late hour or say he was spacing off-  
  
"Do you want me to stop?"  
  
Or not...  
  
Jeremy said nothing, but gave a tiny shrug, looking down and away slightly with his thumbnail between his teeth. It could've been the dimmer lighting or the color of said lighting, but the boy's pale cheeks seemed to turn to a slightly rosier tint.   
  
Ok, so maybe Michael was accidentally flirty for a second there, whatever. Again, he could blame it on the time if need be. Speaking of which... "So, what made you come over here past curfew and shit? Didja miss me that bad?" Good job, Mell, you can play that not-exactly flirting off as teasing. That's usually what it is anyway, since Jeremy would've reciprocated the flirting by now if he'd felt the same. But alas, Michael can dream and slyly project.   
  
"Um..." Jeremy's voice went up half an octave as he tugged at the oversized hoodie. And maybe Michael was hallucinating, but the pinker shade of his face seemed to shift higher in saturation. "Suuure, somethin' like that." He mumbled, eyes meeting everything except Michael's.   
  
Jeremy was good at quite a few things, but lying wasn't one of them.   
  
"Is something wrong?" Enter protective and caring Michael. "Ya need to talk about something?" Almost as if he didn't expect Michael to be on his case whenever he showed up at his for no reason, Jeremy made a face at him. He shook his head, speaking to something on the ground next to him. "No, nothing's wrong."  
  
"Are ya sure?"  
  
"I'm fine, just tired."  
  
"You're always tired." Michael shot back. He knew Jeremy knew he couldn't argue with that. He looked like he was about to, opening his mouth as if to rebut, but ultimately not saying anything. Jeremy sighed, gesturing to him with a joint between his index and middle finger. "Fine, you win." He sank back in his beanbag, scooting down a bit so that he wouldn't end up doing a backbend, or whatever the gymnasts call it. "God, how do I even say this...?" The paler teen asked nobody. "I kinda... Sorta... Have this... Crush..."  
  
Oof, there it is.   
  
Michael would be lying if he said he didn't expect to hear Jeremy utter that phrase sooner or later, but it still took a pang to his heart to finally hear his friend say the words to his face. He'd been psyching himself up for rejection and friendzoning for a while, but then whoops, turns out Jeremy was bi. And while Michael kept telling himself that just because Jeremy also liked dudes that didn't mean he'd end up falling for him, there was always that tiny sparkle of hope that told him 'maybe one day'.   
  
But there it was, confirmation that Jeremy liked someone else. Well ok, he only said he had a crush, he didn't specify who. He didn't specify guy or girl either, so Michael couldn't say with one hundred percent certainty that it was someone else. It could be him. That said, he couldn't let his hopes get raised too high only to be shot down with a 'she' or 'her'. And the chances of Michael being Jeremy's crush were very slim if it was a dude that he liked, since, you know, there are kind of a lot of those at their school.   
  
When in doubt, tease it out.   
  
"Ooo, a crush?" Michael crooned as his friend started to take another hit from the blunt. "How much Facebook stalking have you been doing? Do you know where they live?" Jeremy coughed a couple times, either from the smoke or the question, possibly both. "Uum! I-I plead the fifth."  
  
"So you do!"  
  
"I di- I-I didn't say that!"  
  
"You didn't say you didn't know either." Jeremy made a face after that, giving Michael the cue to stop. He loved teasing Jeremy, but he knew when enough was enough. "Whatever, dude, it doesn't matter. You were saying?" Jeremy's expression was tricky to read, but it seemed to fall under the category of 'Wait, so you're just gonna drop it? Um, ok...' Choosing his next words carefully, he continued where he left off. "This crush, h- sh- ...they're, kinda unknowingly killing me inside."  
  
"Damn, not even a gender reveal?" Michael joked. But yeah, the ambiguity wasn't great. "You're not giving me much to work with, Heere." Hearing a feminine or masculine pronoun could eliminate half of Michael's guesses as to who Jeremy had the hots for, and also crush or strengthen his hopes of it being him respectively. Unless his crush was non binary or gender fluid, which wouldn't really narrow it down, Michael didn't know if anyone at their school was like that. Damn it...  
  
Jeremy raised an eyebrow up at him, slowing down his words just a little bit. "That's kinda the point, shithead."  
  
"So you don't trust me with this information."  
  
"Duh and/or hello."  
  
"Fair enough, continue." Admittedly, Michael was being a bit nosy. And hey, maybe Jeremy was afraid that he would spill the beans to 'them' if he told him. It wasn't that Michael's intentions would be hurtful were he to obtain this information, of course not. Even if it would be HELL to help Jeremy get with the person he liked, i.e. not Michael, it'd be the best and bro thing to do.   
  
"Anyway, you know that I stress out about everything and nothing all the time, yeah?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
"Well..." Jeremy took another hit, a common occurrence. He'd stall for time to remain silent by distracting himself with a joint. He knew he was merely prolonging the inevitable, so Michael still knew he was going to get an answer. After a moment, it came among some gently billowing smoke. "Whenever I see them in a class we share, or passing in the hall or- hell, whenever I think about them, all that stress just... Melts away. Just knowing that I can see them, and they'll make me forget that anything else in the world is worth a damn."  
  
Well God diggity damn, if that's not love then Michael doesn't know the meaning of the word. Jeremy's crush must be made of some kind of magic sauce for him to be that infatuated with them. "That's... That- that's good, right? You've got a sort of... You know, coping mechanism, right? For stress." Michael knew that all too well, and he had a feeling that he knew where Jeremy was going with his crush crisis. "That's not the bad part..." The teen continued, shaking his head. "The bad part is that-"  
  
"They don't feel the same?" Michael finished somberly, an after thought to make it sound more like a question. Jeremy gave a weak shrug. "Why would they? They're... nice enough, but they'd never wanna date me because I'm... Well, me."  
  
Despite the heaviness of knowing his crush had eyes for someone else, that made Michael want to rebut. That made Michael want to shoot back something clever and smooth. He could give a million reasons why HE wanted to date Jeremy, why Jeremy was entirely dateable and Stop Hating On Yourself Dude You're Awesome In Every Conceivable Way What The Hell™. "Honestly though, who would wanna date me?" The amount of effort it took Michael to not raise his hand and say 'meeeee' was nearly too much to handle. Nearly. He managed, somehow.  
  
"III dunnooo..." He started out. "I've seen Brooke giving you some looks across the hall lately." He thought that Jeremy's small smile and slight eye-roll were a good sign of his reassurance, only to have the opposite be proven by the teen's casual denial. "Thanks, but I don't need a lie to give me false hope." Michael wouldn't say he was lying, he really did see the girl glance at Jeremy every so often with a look that didn't hold disgust. He may not be straight, but he knows a girl's 'you're cute' look when he sees one.   
  
And so, Jeremy continued on as if Michael hadn't said anything. "It hurts knowing that they don't care for me like I care about them. If I ever did get the balls to confess to them, they'd probably explode from the impact of getting thrown into the friendzone. Or, I dunno, acquaintance-zone?" The boy chuckled a bit at the end. Michael couldn't tell if it was a good or bad thing that Jeremy found humor in the idea. Either way, he took yet another slow hit. "Or, maybe I wouldn't even care that much..." Jeremy breathed out, dejected, barely a mumble.  
  
"Like..." He added louder, waving the blunt around a little. "It'd hurt a shit-ton, yeah, but... I think I would still consider myself lucky that they'd wanna associate with me in any form or fashion. I'm glad that I'm acquainted with them at all... But at the same time, it's constant torture that we can't be anything more." He wouldn't admit it out loud, but Michael didn't think he could've said it any better himself.   
  
"And I mean, heh, add that onto the stress of high school, bullies, realizing that it's only two more years until legal adulthood, and life just turns into a big ball of stupid and annoying." Jeremy continued in a weirdly casual way, though it could've been the weed and sleep deprivation talking. "But then again, you forget about all that stress because they're your crush and they're amazing, but then yet again, they don't like you back and that itself is a big ball of stupid and annoying."  
  
He started making a sort of rolling or turning motion with his hands, blunt still slotted between his fingers. "Then it's just this big stupid and annoying cycle, ball, thing, rolling down the big stupid and annoying hill that is life!" Jeremy laughed tiredly a little more, something Michael didn't think was fitting. But again, could be chocked up to weed and very little sleep. Or... it was a laugh-away-the-pain kind of thing.   
  
That was... Entirely possible.   
  
"I could play wingman for ya." Michael all but blurted. He hoped he didn't sound super eager, because if he was being honest, he wasn't. Yeah, he'd help Jeremy in every possible way if it killed him. He'd walk straight through hell and back for that boy, but he didn't know how mentally or emotionally prepared he'd be to set his crush up with his crush's crush. (That sounded confusing, but whatever.) Luckily, Jeremy lightly brushed off the idea as though it were an impossibility. "Uh... No, you can't."  
  
"Obviously I can't if I don't know who you like." Michael said, quickly adding on his intended extension upon seeing the dread (discomfort? He didn't know) on Jeremy's face. "Not that I'm prying or anything, but it seems like getting together with your crush could really help you ou-"  
  
"That's-" Jeremy put a hand up, stopping Michael mid-word. "Sweet, really, thank you, but... You just, that's not something you can do because..." He stopped, some mild conflict seeming to creep into the boy's gaze. "It's because you're... Th- my crush is... Well they're- you're, um... Th-the big-stupid-annoying ball, it-it's connected to... It's..." So we're back to that again, apparently. Jeremy seemed a bit scatterbrained, jumping from whether he wanted to say something about Michael, his crush, the big-stupid-annoying ball, he couldn't keep his thoughts straight.   
  
Heheh, straight.   
  
A look that at first seemed like one of being caught off guard turned into one of hopelessness, turning to Jeremy waving Michael off and attempting to climb out of his beanbag. "I-it-it's weird, stupid- sappy teenage bullshit, you don't really care. I'll just- I'll shut up now. Better yet, I'll just go."  
  
Shit, that escalated.   
  
"Woah hey, dude! That-!" Jeremy stopped everything and looked back up at his friend, looking a little scared. Michael hadn't meant to startle him, but he panicked and didn't want Jeremy to try and leave or something. However, the higher teen did look like he very much wanted to be swallowed up by the ground. So Michael reassured him, as he often found himself doing. "That's... Not weird or stupid at all."  
  
"...What?"  
  
Oof, that godforsaken What Thing.   
  
"I... I know what you're saying." He said. Jeremy blinked, looking a bit surprised, hopeful? Both? Sort of like he wasn't expecting that as an answer but wasn't mad that he got it. Did he really think his thoughts and feelings didn't make any amount of sense at all? "Y... You do?"  
  
'That's how I feel about you.'  
  
No, Michael couldn't say that.   
  
'I know exactly how that feels.'  
  
Eh, Jeremy would probably wonder who he felt that way toward and again, Michael couldn't say that.   
  
"I can see where you're coming from with this, big-stupid-annoying ball stuff. And I can see why you'd be... Y'know, scared about that kind of stuff. And I get how something small like, like just seeing someone can make it a little easier to deal with... I dunno, life I guess." Good, say you understand exactly what he's talking about without spilling that he just described what you feel all the time. That would raise questions and Jeremy didn't need to know the answers to those questions.  
  
All he needed to know was that he had a friend that would be there for him. He was looking up intently at Michael, really listening to him. "And I may not be this cure-all crush of yours or whatever, but I'll always help you in every way I can. I mean, two-player game, right?" After a short moment, Jeremy nodded, snubbing the small remainder of his blunt and dropping it in the nearby trash bin. "Right. So if life's getting to be too much... Well, I shouldn't even need to tell you that you can just call or text me whenever, but you know that's always an option."  
  
See how he directed the conversation away from who Jeremy liked? He liked to think he did that for both of their benefit. His own because he didn't want to linger on the thought of his long-time crush's feelings for someone else, and Jeremy's because that was a current stressor for him. And hey, that wasn't the only thing he was stressed about. It was one thing stacked onto a pile of other things, so those needed to be taken care of too.  
  
He needed to know that Michael would do everything in his power to help him cope with that shit. Cuz dammit, Michael knew that he had trouble dealing with those things too. So yeah, being a good friend was his goal. Jeremy just peered back at him with a tired, maybe a little sad, but a lot grateful smile, his eyes half-closed. "How long have you been recording?" He asked softly.   
  
"I'll stop now."  
  
"'Kay."  
  
True to his word, Michael stopped recording the accidentally lengthy video, turning his phone off and tossing it onto some kitty bed that JJ never used. The two sat in their respective beanbags in comfortable silence for a moment, neither one feeling a particular need to break it. They'd been friends long enough that silence was ok sometimes, even preferred. Talking just wasn't required or necessary at times. So there they simply sat.   
  
Jeremy opened his mouth to say something, but Michael beat him to it.   
  
"Yes, you can crash here for the night."  
  
That made Jeremy shake his head and give a short laugh. "Good, cuz I... Wasn't really planning on leaving..." He laughed nervously at the end. "But I was gonna say, thanks, for..." The teen stopped, trying to find the right words. After a moment, he opted for a blanket thanks of sorts as he fiddled with the red cuffs of the sweatshirt. "Everything. Like." The 'like' was a little louder yet again. "...Literally, everything." Even if it was general, it didn't sound any less genuine and sincere. "Not even a problem, dude." Michael said warmly, truly meaning it.   
  
"...I'm taking this thing off."  
  
"What's this? Stripping in my good Christian household? Jeremy, how dare you."  
  
Jeremy groaned, pulling the sweatshirt over his head by now. "Shut up." If Michael were to take a guess, his friend's face was a shade or two brighter than the hoodie; A good reason for him to be hiding his face, slightly dirty jokes did that sometimes. He played along other times though, it was a fifty-fifty kind of thing that was tricky to gauge. If Jeremy were to play off of Michael's stripping joke, he probably would've responded with 'You know it' or 'C'mon, you're into it' or something else to that effect. (He would've been glad that Jeremy's face was covered by the clothing so he couldn't see Michael's knowing cringe of being 'into it.' But Jeremy didn't even say that so why was he flipping out on the inside? Shut up.)  
  
Once he got the hoodie off, he dropped it beside him in the beanbag before pushing off of it to head for what had basically been assigned as his side of the bed. Michael turned off the desk lamp and followed suit shortly after, putting his glasses on the bedside table; an unspoken agreement that they both really needed some sleep. He turned the lava lamp off too since they weren't safe to have on for more than eight hours at a time, and he had a sneaking suspicion neither he nor Jeremy would wake until after about ten hours at least. Maybe twelve.   
  
It wasn't uncommon for the boys to camp out in a pillow fort during sleepovers when they were less than ten years old, but a little before they went into middle school was around the time they wondered if they should take on a different approach.   
  
The inflatable mattress was the obvious go-to, which worked pretty well for a little while. At one point though, the two would stay up so late that they'd be too tired to blow the damn thing up themselves. They weren't going to wake up a parent to do it for them since it'd usually be well past midnight, so they got lazy and ended up sleeping in the same bed, which became the new norm.   
  
You'd think queer teenagers would be uncomfortable with that kind of thing, but it's not like they were DOING anything (or anyone), they were just sleeping. So really, it wasn't weird for either of them. And they'd been friends for so long that neither one cared that much in the first place. They tended to keep to themselves all night anyway, so again, it hardly mattered. Maybe one of them would wake up with an arm lazily draped over them or some other accidental point of contact every now and then, but they generally slept pretty independent of each other.   
  
Which is why a little red flag went up in Michael's head when he laid down and the first thing Jeremy did once he settled, was curl up on his right side and cling onto him.   
  
Now, clinging was usually saved for one of two things: to be annoying while playing a game that required high concentration, or for times of panic and general negative emotions. The two criteria couldn't have been more different. Considering Michael could feel Jeremy shaking against him a little (and because duh, they're not playing a video game), it was definitely the latter. He didn't know what could've been going through his friend's mind to shake him up in the half minute they weren't talking, but it didn't really matter to him. This was simply Michael's cue to wrap his arms around Jeremy to make sure things didn't escalate any further. It was a muscle memory thing by now: Jeremy clings onto him, he clings back. Other times, it went the opposite way: Jeremy is emotionally unstable, Michael clings onto him, he clings back.   
  
Obvious 'in bed' joke aside, Jeremy didn't typically have those self-hate-fueled panic Michael-hug-me episodes in bed. (They were different from panic attacks, so Michael didn't call them that.) They tended to happen sometime at night and prompt the two to go to sleep, though it didn't ever result in Jeremy cuddling up to Michael like a koala. Sleeping a tad closer, maybe, but not straight-up snuggling. Not hugging him as if he'd never see him again. Not intertwining his colder legs with Michael's warm ones. Not burying his face in his slightly taller friend's chest. Not bringing himself impossibly closer.   
  
Not.   
  
This.   
  
Did this mean something?  
  
It probably didn't, but would it be so wrong of Michael to want to pretend? He figured it was harmless enough, it could give off the illusion that they were a thing without being super serious. He could just convince himself in the morning that it was for Jeremy's benefit, he did sort of initiate the cuddling anyway. The 'why' of it  though still wasn't clear, but it didn't matter as long as Jeremy wasn't hyperventilating or anything else that would be... Not good, to put it simply.   
  
So Michael just let the boy do his thing, rubbing small circles into his back and shoulder with his thumbs. He'd focus on his stupid feelings later; Homies before blow-me's, right? Michael would always be Jeremy's friend first and foremost, he promised himself that years ago. It was a rule when they both thought Jeremy was straight, it was a rule after he came out as bi and made Michael's brain explode, it was still a rule to this day. And it would remain a rule so long as Jeremy had feelings for someone else.   
  
Once he had finished shifting around and entangling himself with Michael, Jeremy let out a soft sigh. He wasn't shaking anymore, which was a good sign as far as Michael was aware. Feeling a sense of finality between them, he gave Jeremy a little squeeze. "Night, Jer." He whispered as he rested his chin on the crown of the smaller boy's head.  
  
Jeremy hummed into his chest. "Night."  
  
  
  
~~~   
  
  
  
November 12, 2015  
  
  
  
For the first time, Michael's contact list consisted of more than six. Four of the numbers belonged to his parents, one to his older brother who was too busy with college to contact him, and one to Jeremy. The new seventh number in his phone belonged to someone he saw often, but didn't know he'd ever be on a texting basis with.   
  
Let's just say he ended up venting to someone from 7-Eleven that he'd see every time he wanted to drink his feelings through a colored straw.   
  
  
  
Nov 12, 2015, 6:31 PM   
  
Slushee Girl:  
<How you holdin up?>  
  
Michael:  
<Dead inside....>  
  
Slushee Girl:  
<More than usual?>  
  
Michael:  
<Eeehhhhh.........>  
  
Slushee Girl:  
<Ya need to come over to Sev and drown your sorrows in cherry flavored ice?>  
  
Michael:  
<I'd say yes,,,,. But...,>  
<It's too far.....>  
  
Slushee Girl:  
<Mood tho, I totes feel... But if you change your mind, you know I'm heere for you>  
<*here>  
  
Michael:  
<Mmmmreeueuehen>  
  
Slushee Girl:  
<Sorry!>  
<My fault!>  
<Nfpei>  
  
Michael:  
<??>  
  
Slushee Girl:  
<Madeline's tryna take my phone>  
<Little sisters suck>  
<Thing is that mine also swallows>  
<Eyooo!>  
<My parents just yelled at me>  
<First middle AND last name>  
<Gtg rip me 2k15>  
  
Michael:  
<Rip>  
  
  
  
And that was the end of that.   
  
The girl at 7-Eleven - her real name was Caroline - was the next closest thing Michael had to a friend. Sure, he knew a few people online and even in real life, but he didn't ever get into his personal affairs with them. Slushee Girl was basically his therapist. She'd listen to him rant about Jeremy, cry about Jeremy, scream into the store's neck pillows about Jeremy, she was his closest acquaintance. And they both got to complain about how gay they were for their best friend. That obviously went on a much deeper and messier level with Michael, but still.   
  
Caroline was a few years older and a couple inches shorter than Michael. She also had mildly strict parents and a younger sister named Madeline that apparently went to his school (Caroline, Madeline, ah, ya get it?) that pretended to be French. Neither of the gays liked her that much.   
  
Anyway, long story short, Michael went to 7-Eleven to get an I'm Mad At Jeremy Slushee one day. Caroline noticed his dark and brooding saunter into the store and - knowing Michael as a regular for as long as she had - lightheartedly asked about it. Something inside Michael unwillingly broke and she ended up closing up shop early because he'd started crying out of nowhere. Caroline gave him a cherry slushee on the house as they both sat atop the counter and he told her everything.   
  
Like... Everything everything.   
  
One thing led to another and the My-Best-Friend-Left-Me-And-I'm-Way-Too-Gay For-Him-To-Really-Be-Mad-At-Him-Help-What-Are-Emotions-What-Do-I-Do therapy sessions became daily.   
  
That thing led to another thing and they were now texting fairly regularly.   
  
But alas, all good things must come to an end. Those 'good things' were usually ended by Caroline's work or her parents punishing her for being a smart-ass. Yes, she was a freshman in college. Yes, she still lived with her parents. It was a whole thing. And now, Michael had no one to talk to. Parents were out grocery shopping, brother was in college, Caroline was getting scolded, Jeremy was flourishing, 'nuff said.   
  
So there he sat on the porch with his fourth - or however many he's on now - blunt of the day in his boxers with a small box of childhood mementos. It was just sitting there for now, taking up space while Michael mindlessly tapped around on his phone. At some point, he found himself looking through his camera roll.   
  
Again.   
  
Because of course.   
  
But don't worry, he wasn't re-watching the videos and letting them play.   
  
You know.  
  
Again.   
  
He was looking strictly at pictures this time, like that was any better. There was a short series of two or three that went together: A screenshotted text conversation that Michael still kept for some unknown reason. There were quite a few of those actually.   
  
  
  
Jan 29, 2015, 10:08 PM  
  
Michael:  
<If you clean a vacuum cleaner, does that make you a vacuum cleaner?>  
  
Jeremy:  
<What the hell...>  
  
Michael:  
<I don't know>  
  
Jeremy:  
<I don't either>  
  
Michael:  
<Am I making you question your existence?>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Everything makes me question me existence>  
  
Michael:  
<True>  
<Well nighty night>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Night>  
  
  
  
And Jeremy didn't even question it. He probably knew Michael was high off his face that night.   
  
Or was he just really, really, really tired?  
  
It was probably some combination of the two.   
  
The next conversation was definitely some combination of the two. Far, far more tired than high, but still. It dragged on significantly longer as well, so that was fun.   
  
  
  
Feb 9, 2015, 5:02 AM  
  
Jeremy:  
<So basically we're both screwed for the ELA test, wunderbar>  
  
Michael:  
<Nice typo>  
  
Jeremy:  
<That's not a typo, it's another language>  
  
Michael:  
<Translation?>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Take a guess>  
  
Michael:  
<Wonderbread>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Pffff>  
  
Michael:  
<Wonderul>  
<*w o n d e r f u l>  
<*smashes face on table*>  
  
Jeremy:  
<gOOD JOB>  
<You're the real MVP>  
  
Michael:  
<Shit up!>  
<Shit>  
<Sht>  
<S h u t>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Took ya long enough>  
  
Michael:  
<My brain can't function! It's 5 AM!>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Wait>  
<It is???>  
  
Michael:  
<Yess?>  
  
Jeremy:  
<.....did we... Seriously just pull an all nighter?>  
  
Michael:  
<......>  
<Oh my god>  
  
Jeremy:  
<AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH>  
  
Michael:  
<WE'RE THE WORST!!>  
  
Jeremy:  
<IT'S A MONDAY WE'RE SO STUPID OML>  
<This is bad my dad just walked by my room and wants to know why I'm laughing so hard I'm can't rn Jesus Christ>  
  
Michael:  
<WE'RE DONE FOR>  
<RIP IN PEACE US>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Rest In Peace in peace?>  
  
Michael:  
<...yes>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Seems legit>  
<Rip in peace is just gonna be our new thing huh?>  
  
Michael:  
<Probably>  
  
Jeremy:  
<I'm like... Drunk laughing now I don't even>  
<My dad looks very concerned help>  
  
Michael:  
<No>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Thanksss....>  
<See you in ELA, prey we don't bomb the test>  
  
Michael:  
<*pray>  
  
Jeremy:  
<…>  
<*smashes face on table*>  
  
Michael:  
<Did you copy paste that?>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Did you copy paste that?>  
  
Michael:  
<Seriously?>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Seriously?>  
  
Michael:  
<Hmm...>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Hmm...>  
  
Michael:  
<Stop copy pasting me>  
  
Jeremy:  
<Stop copy pasting me>  
<Thank you for your time>  
<That's all I wanted you to say>  
<My work is done here>  
  
Michael:  
<*Heere>  
  
Jeremy:  
<I'm not gonna give you the satisfaction>  
  
Michael:  
<Dammit>  
  
  
  
Michael could look through those screenshots all day. But he'd already done that quite a few times in the past week or so, so he figured he ought to do something a bit different.   
  
So what else would Michael do but look through the memento box he'd brought outside with him?   
  
He doubted he'd do something irrational like burn whatever was inside. I mean, he couldn't even delete some pointless pictures off of his phone, how could he do something that dramatic? Maybe he'd put them in a Burn Pile, much like how he'd filed each of his pictures into a Delete Album but still hadn't done anything about it. Anyway, let's see what all is in here. (He can tell himself not to all he wants, but Michael will still always think Heere whenever he says here.)  
  
Magic the Gathering card Jeremy gave him for the birthday no one else remembered. Michael's parents had to go off somewhere and do shit for work while his brother had to buy textbooks for school. Then turning-thirteen Michael was left home alone until he got a knock on his front door, revealing Jeremy's sheepish braced smile. He'd held a package of birthday cake Oreos and the gift playing card. It basically took everything Michael had to not squeeze the life out of Jeremy because goddammit that was so freaking soft and cute.   
  
  
  
Burn it.   
  
Ticket stub to their first concert...  
  
Weird Al.   
  
Why is that not surprising?  
  
The date read Oct 11, 2011. Michael recorded several songs on his phone that night and took quite a few selfies with Jeremy before the performance began as well.   
  
  
  
Super burn it.   
  
"Michael!"   
  
WHO THE FU- oh shit, is that Jeremy's dad? Thank God, not a cop. But still an adult, and Michael still bears weed. It'd probably be smart to hide that. Wait, he's high, is he just seeing stuff? Wait, weed doesn't make you hallucinate. "Mr. Heere!" Michael hid his mostly smoked joint behind the lawn chair he was sitting in, snubbing it and discreetly tossing it aside. "What are you doing here?"  
  
...  
  
Heheh, Heere.   
  
Frantic wouldn't have been the right word, but there was an overall sense of urgency to Mr. Heere. "We need to talk about Jeremy."  
  
Geez, took him long enough... Michael could see where Jeremy's frustration with his father would lie. Whatever, that was an unspoken talk that had long since expired. He tried to sound as apathetic and brooding as he could, which he'd been getting pretty alright at lately. "Sorry, Jeremy and I aren't friends anymore."  
  
"Do you love him?"  
  
"Holy shit, is it that obvi- I mean what?"  
  
Whoops...  
  
Well, that didn't last long.   
  
Mr. Heere blinked a couple times and Michael was positive that he had ruined everything because now he knew that he loved his son and oh God if everything hadn't gone to shit before it sure as hell had now! But instead of some kind of scolding, Mr. Heere gave a look that said he acknowledged what just happened but wouldn't say anything about it. Thank. God. "He can be a little shit sometimes, we both know that. But that's no reason to stay up all night burning incense while he turns himself into a monster."  
  
"All... Night?"  
  
"Why else would your eyes be bloodshot?"  
  
Up all night? Burning incense? Michael couldn't tell if Mr. Heere was joking or not. He was either not high enough or too high for this shit. So hey, let's recap and find out. His ex best friend's father came up to his porch wearing a bathrobe and thermal underwear... Asking Michael if he loved Jeremy... And telling him to get off his ass and talk about it... Instead of staying up all night burning incense.   
  
Hmm...  
  
It's finally happened, Michael has ascended to whole new level of being stoned out of his mind.   
  
To celebrate this achievement, he found it the perfect time to invite himself into his room and, I dunno, sleep it off maybe. With slight strain, Michael pushed himself out of the plastic lawn chair and made a move for the front door. "Yyyeah I'm gonna goooo noww..." He didn't make it very far before the man was blocking the entrance. Wow, he must've meant business.  
  
Also, damn it.   
  
"Alright, I'm not gonna beat around the bush anymore. Something really strange and bad is going on with Jeremy and I don't know how to help him." Huh, ya think? Mr. Heere gestured hopefully to Michael. "But you've known him longer than anyone else. Hell, I'm willing to bet money that you know him better than I do." Michael didn't know whether to be honored or disappointed upon hearing that. He figured both. "I don't have all the necessary tools to help him out. And I know you know all the rules."  
  
The way the man framed it made Michael seem like the perfect candidate to help his son, but unfortunately, the teen knew better. Sure, he knew Jeremy like the back of his hand, but what good did it do if he wouldn't acknowledge Michael's existence? He'd had firsthand experience trying and failing to help his - at the time - friend, he wasn't entirely hopeful. Jeremy had everything that he wanted. Popularity, friends, a girlfriend. Well, he had seen rumors online that Brooke and Jeremy broke up, and their Facebook relationship statuses checked out, but whatever. "But I'm not what he wants." Michael said, using the method of not thinking about what he's saying to keep himself from breaking down right in front of Mr. Heere.   
  
"But you're just what he needs."  
  
...  
  
...Eheheh, ehEHEH, thAT doesn't sound gay at all, nOPE.   
  
"I know this might be hard."  
  
Hard?  
  
"But you just gotta suck it up and push through."  
  
Suck?!?!  
  
Goddammit, Heere, can you say ONE THING that won't remind Michael of how gay he is with his gayness?!  
  
"Because when you love somebody, you put your pants on for them."  
  
...  
  
Uh...   
  
That's... One way of thinking of it, sure.   
  
But if that was the case (as opposed to couGH COUGH the """other""" way) - and if it were physically possible - Michael would wear forty pairs of pants everyday, more even.    
  
Because apparently you quantify how much you love someone by how many...  
  
Pairs of...  
  
Pants?  
  
You wear?  
  
Ok really, how high IS Michael right now?  
  
There was no possible way for him to be straight, but he should consider getting his facts straight. Because seriously, the entire conversation and scenario had been pretty bizarre. "So you're here..." Heheh, Heere. "Because you need... Paaants?" Again, Michael was pretty sure he had figured out a way to get too high as opposed to not getting high enough. He was almost positive that Mr. Heere was onto him by now, any parent would be suspicious of if a teen was doing drugs.   
  
"You really need some sleep."  
  
...  
  
Yeah.   
  
Sure.   
  
Let's go with that.   
  
"And no," Mr. Heere continued. "I need you to reach out to him. Jeremy- ...he won't listen to me and," The man shrugged, deflating. "I can't blame him, but, someone has to watch his back. And I believe that someone is you."  
  
So it seemed that Mr. Heere was slapping some sense into himself and being a good father for the first time in years. Thing was that he had waited a little over two months before realizing that something was amiss with his son. Not only that, but he was more asking Michael to fix the problem than going out and doing it himself.   
  
A classic case of too little too late.   
  
Moving his glasses up a little to rub the bridge of his nose, Michael sighed. "I understand where you're coming from, Mr. Heere, but I can't. Jeremy's moved on and with all due respect, I'm trying to do the same." He gestured to the door, thinking of how attractive a nap sounded right then. "Now if you'd kindly excuse me-"  
  
"Who wouldn't stop crying that he didn't want you to die when you broke your nose?"  
  
Um- what? Michael was caught off guard by the question. The memory was fuzzy seeing as how it was a ten-year-old incident, but you tend to remember more traumatic occurrences since they leave an impact on you and those around you. He remembered the gist of it. Michael ran into a tree with enough force to break his nose, the only other witness was put into panic mode as he tearfully called for his parents to come help, and he was crying as though it was the end of the world.   
  
That witness just so happened to be...  
  
"...Jeremy?"  
  
But what did it matter...?  
  
"Who insisted on staying over for the night whenever your parents went out and you were left alone?"  
  
Business trips were a common occurrence, infuriatingly common. Even though Michael was left with his older brother most of the time at ages twelve and under, it still got lonely when all he would do was schoolwork or jazz practice. It got even lonelier when he'd finally gone off to college, leaving Michael with the house all to himself. Until, of course, he'd get a knock on the door from the only company he was allowed to let inside. That, and the only company Michael wanted to see.   
  
"Jeremy."  
  
"Who cat-sat your fuzzy demon while you and your family went on your trip to the Philippines?"  
  
None of his parents' family friends lived near enough to the Mell house to go there everyday, not to mention that a few of them were allergic to cats anyway. The family was short on time and needed someone to drop by to change JJ's litter and give him food, they were stressing out and didn't know who would help on such short notice. But there was one person that took up the offer immediately...   
  
"Jeremy."  
  
"Who's trick-or-treated with you every year for over a decade even when you were deemed too old?"  
  
But there was no trick-or-treating this year, so the question doesn't apply there. Obviously. They'd gone to the same house party, separately. They didn't coordinate costumes, at all. They didn't watch a horror movie over candy, there was none. But get this, the night was still scary. Michael couldn't work up the guts to pull him away from his group. He hid in the bathroom. He was found by the thing he was hiding from.  He confronted that thing and did everything he could to defeat it.  
  
And it tore him to shreds.   
  
But...  
  
Eleven years was still over a decade...  
  
"Jeremy."  
  
"Whose face is behind twelve years of birthday cards?"  
  
"Jeremy."  
  
"Who has collectively spent more time at your house than the one he lives in?"  
  
"Jeremy."  
  
Geez...  
  
Whatever point Mr. Heere was making to Michael, he'd made it pretty damn well.   
  
"...I don't know what specifically Jeremy has done to upset you, but don't you think that after everything he's been by your side for... That you should be by his when he's going through something big?"  
  
Michael... Didn't have much of an answer for that. Logically and morally, yeah, he ought to help Jeremy when his life his going down a dangerous path.   
  
But...  
  
"You think I haven't already tried?" The teen asked hopelessly. "Believe me, I tried to help him. But he pushed me away and-"  
  
"And you gave up on him." Mr. Heere finished, disappointed? Upset? Negatively, for sure. And not as a question. "Ehh..." The teen shrugged. Sure, the man wasn't wrong, but Michael still felt the shame and dishonor in the thought of giving up so easily. He had just kinda... Dropped everything after Halloween. Maybe he could've made a better effort? But that was the optimist speaking. Michael looked away from Mr. Heere, instead paying mind to the memento box. It wasn't doing anything, it had merely been eavesdropping on the two.   
  
The stupid bastard...  
  
The man, now also aware of the box's presence, leaned over a little to peek inside. He made a face at one of the items, picking it up and turning it to look at both sides. "My God, is this a polaroid?" He asked, and Michael already knew what he had found. "You are so old-school." Which one it was though, was still up in the air. Out of curiosity, Michael peered down at the photo to see which year it was from.   
  
He and Jeremy understandably didn't remember the exact day that they met, (they were four, what do you expect?) but they decided it was around the end of July or early August. So every year around that time, they would take a polaroid selfie to celebrate the occasion. Why polaroid? Just cuz. Freshman year was the exception, they took the photo early so that Michael could have it for his summer-long trip to the Philippines. He didn't tell Jeremy that was WHY he wanted it early though, his excuse had something to do with how they couldn't take it during the school year and break tradition, or some bullshit reason like that.   
  
The only thing that changed about the pictures were how old the boys were and the handwriting that listed how long they'd been friends. Make no mistake, that doesn't mean they took turns writing on the bottom of the photo, that and the person who photographed the moment stayed the same. Michael always took the picture, Jeremy always wrote the length of their friendship. Each year, the picture got less and less blurry from a slightly wobbly hand. And each year, the words got less and less chicken scratchy from... Well, being young and having very little fine motor skills.   
  
The writing on the photo Mr. Heere obtained read '12 Years Together!' in Jeremy's confusingly neat cursive. Like why did he still know how to write in cursive? They learned that shit in third grade and now it's apparently not even on the curriculum anymore if overheard students at school with younger siblings were to be trusted. Michael couldn't even remember what half the letters in cursive looked like while Jeremy could potentially write entire goddamn sentences for some reason. Holy shit, HE COULD RICK-ROLL MICHAEL IN CURSIVE!  
  
Just another thing he liked about Jeremy for some dumb reason.   
  
The picture itself wasn't anything extraordinary, but there was still somewhat of a story behind it. Jeremy had complained that he looked sad in previous photos even though he was smiling, which Michael made some offhanded comment relating to his inner turmoil about. Jeremy gave him a strange look and no reply, to which Michael said, 'It's ok, Jer. Dark humor isn't everyone's cup of liquified baby.'   
  
The sudden plot twist made him laugh out loud, getting a smile that wasn't artificial or just made up on the spot. Because what better way to get a genuine smile out of someone than to confuse the shit out of them with a horrific joke? Michael quickly snapped the photo and waited for it to develop as Jeremy asked him what the hell was wrong with him in a tone so gloriously light.   
  
While Jeremy's eyes were shut from laughter, Michael had accidentally blinked. He faked making a scene about it and saying they had to retake the picture, which they obviously didn't. The teen would be lying if he said he didn't feel a certain sense of bittersweetness viewing the photo with his former friend's father. Said father sighed and delicately placed the polaroid back in its place in the box.   
  
"You're both good kids." He began out of nowhere. "But we all have our bad days, our bad weeks even. And it can be really easy to get all up in arms and storm out when things don't go your way or someone else's way." Pre-SQUIPped-Jeremy Michael wouldn't have been able to relate to an incident like that, but present day Michael was a different way. While his initial thought was that Jeremy did exactly that, he wasn't exactly free of sin either. Sure, Jeremy did it first, but Michael followed suit, so that didn't make him any better than the SQUIPped teen.   
  
And he didn't think that a father who was incredibly unskilled at being such would be the one to help him realize this.  
  
"But acting pissy doesn't solve anything or help anyone." Mr. Heere continued, ACTUALLY sounding parental. Kinda. A little bit. The facade broke fairly quickly. "I would make some video game reference to further inspire you, but I don't know any so I can't." Good, cuz he would probably butcher it and Michael would definitely cringe. "Although I can say that making an effort to fix things with others is better than hoping the problem solves itself. Ya just gotta put your metaphorical big boy pants on."  
  
Michael's single-syllable laugh was almost a scoff. "And your literal big boy pants." He said. "Yeah, I wouldn't recommend going to school like that."  
  
"Oh-hoho, not just me."  
  
Mr. Heere gave a perplexed look. "Excuse me?"  
  
God, he was just as oblivious as Jeremy. About different things of course. About opposite things, in fact. Mr. Heere now (embarrassingly) knew that Michael had feelings for Jeremy, which Jeremy does not know. And Jeremy knew that Mr. Heere was not by ANY means #1 Dad, which Mr. Heere does not know.   
  
All that aside, Michael decided that... Yeah, he didn't like being upset at Jeremy, the entire thing hurt like a bitch. He wanted it try to make things better and actually succeed. If not to prove to himself that he could, then because he wanted things back to normal. He wanted his best friend back. He wanted things to be good again.   
  
In fact, he wanted things better than good.   
  
He wanted an improvement.   
  
"Don't think you're off the hook. I'm not the only one that could've done a better job of looking out for him. We're both at fault, Heere." Jeremy had complained about it time and time again. 'Did he not see that I'm currently a bloody tissue walrus or something' was that one winter day in their freshman year. 'Fairly certain he's forgotten how pants work' came up several times. And 'I find it fascinating that he still hasn't said anything about the tattoo yet' was just a couple months ago. Whatever it was, it related to Jeremy's father not being the perfect example of such.   
  
When the words sunk in, Mr. Heere stuffed his hands into his bathrobe pockets with a guilty look. "So it's obvious I don't know what I'm doing?"  
  
Michael gave a slow nod.   
  
Yeah, Mr. Heere didn't know how to parent. One could argue that he tried, but the point stood that he wasn't all that great at being a dad. And he apparently already knew it? Or had Jeremy finally told him as much? So he's not oblivious? Confusion is Michael... "Not to make excuses, because there are none, but..." A disheartened shrug. "It's not like they give you an instruction manual for raising kids. If I'm being honest, I'm kinda just making this up as I go."  
  
Geez, someone give this guy a map.   
  
"Then you should make it up to him."  
  
"What?"  
  
Admittedly, that could've been worded better.   
  
But goddamn, they both did the What Thing.   
  
Michael gave a stern look, almost as if he was the parent in this situation. "If I try harder to be his friend, you have to try harder to be his dad." Ah, see? That. That worked. That sounded good. "There's a Kohl's down the street, jeans, khaki, hell- leather for all I care, you're not leaving that store until you buy a pair." Heheh, that rhymed.   
  
Surprised and confused seemed like too strong of words to describe the man's reaction, it stood that he must not have expected to have anything asked of him. The look Mr. Heere ended on was almost... Proud? In a way? "You drive a hard bargain, son." Michael felt more than a little accomplished that he'd gotten Jeremy's father headed in the right direction as far as parenting goes, Jeremy would definitely owe him one.   
  
Or five.   
  
With that, they shook on it.   
  
"So!" Michael announced, shrugging at the father that was not his. "How do you suggest I go about making ou-" Gayness, shut up. "-up, with Jeremy?" Now's not the time to imagine making out with Jeremy, Michael, damn. The man hummed in thought for a moment. "Did you know he's in a pla-"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh. Well he's performing today and it's only two dollars to get in, that's something." Michael made a face. School performances are never that good. "Only? That kind of stuff is usually free, why they gotta make us pay?" Mr. Heere shrugged, not knowing for himself. "Could be worse, it could be five dollars."  
  
"...True."  
  
The two stood there for an odd moment before Mr. Heere snapped himself and Michael out of their mini trance. "Anyway, pants." He said, on his way off the porch and into the yard. The teen ushered him on. "Pants. Yes. Go." The man pointed a finger after him. "You too."  
  
"You one."  
  
Was... That supposed to be Michael's way of saying 'you first'?  
  
God, he's so high.   
  
"You and Jeremy with your weird puns." Mr. Heere mumbled as he mounted his b-  
  
Wh... Did... Did Mr. Heere take a bIKE to his house?!  
  
Seriously. How. High. IS?! Michael?!  
  
Whatever, irrelevant.   
  
In the absence of the man blocking his front door, Michael finally headed into the house and up the stairs for his room. It was probably about time he put on some pants and stop moping around feeling sorry for himself.   
  
No, it was DEFINITELY time he put on some pants and stop moping around the house feeling sorry for himself. It was exhausting anyway. Moping was exhausting. Being in a constant bad mood was exhausting. This... Well the idea of going out was exhausting, but everything else was kinda motivating. A little. Maybe. Truthfully, he may not have been totally in board with the idea yet.   
  
But it sounded better than what he'd been going through for weeks on end.   
  
After showering until the water went from steaming hot to freezing cold, putting on real clothes and deodorant, and very reluctantly grabbing two dollars, Michael was in the midst of taking the red Mountain Dew from the fridge when he got a notification on his phone. He at first panicked seeing that the 7:00 show time was twenty minutes ago. Or did it start at 7:30? Either way, he'd likely have to drive the limit or faster to get to the school and miss as little of the play as possible.   
  
  
  
TheySeeMeRolan is now streaming!  
  
  
  
So yeah, Michael kinda figured out that Jenna had a YouTube channel. And yeah, she recorded bits and pieces of rehearsals sometimes. And yeah, Michael would make it a goal to find Jeremy somewhere in the background. It was kinda stalker-y, yes, but he didn't really know what else to do. His five stages of grief may have admittedly been a bit unusual. He missed Jeremy, it was a little unhealthy, but the damage is done. If there was a bright side, Michael never watched the 2015 Halloween video, so yay? It wasn't like Jeremy ever spoke to or even looked at the camera, he was just off in his own world. So really, it wasn't quite as bad as it could have been.   
  
Michael then took a second to really think about what he was doing and why he was doing it. He was going to try and unSQUIP Jeremy because he missed him a metric shit-ton. It wasn't that he entirely deserved it considering his recent actions, he seemed unbothered by the SQUIP as well. Again, he was popular because of the SQUIP, he was finally accepted by those he thought his opinions mattered to. He dropped Michael, his best friend of a decade and then some, to the side in the matter of a day. Didn't even pay him a second thought.   
  
Mr. Heere had more or less said that Michael has to be there for his best friend, but what can he even do? He could pay the two bucks and watch the show, but what good would it be? It wasn't like he could meet Jeremy after the performance and tell him he did great, that wouldn't do anything. Chances were that he wouldn't notice Michael or just flat out avoid him like normal. So what was the point? Does he really have to go?  
  
He absentmindedly clicked into the video, seeing Jenna in selfie mode with a normally-clothed Jeremy in the background, among several other students surrounding the girl that were in-costume. Nothing too new there. If Michael was going to go save his ass, he needed a damn good reason. Never mind that Livestream Jeremy looks stressed and scared out of his mind, he probably deserves it. Could be first show jitters, the thought is kinda cute, but regardless. It takes more than his peers crudely dancing and singing a debatably relatable Taylor Swift song to convince him that the guy really needs him when he's one of the most popular kids in school.   
  
"-I'M ON THE BLEACHERS DREAMIN' 'BOUT THE DAY WHEN YOU WAKE UP AND FIND THAT WHAT YOU'RE LOOKIN' FOR HAS BEEN HE(E)RE THE WHOLE TIME-"  
  
And.   
  
The one.  
  
And only time.  
  
Jeremy ever addressed the camera.   
  
Sounding truly TERRIFIED, even.   
  
  
  
"Help me!"  
  
  
  
It was all the convincing Michael needed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Cuz it's food and I'm hungry" came from "Pillow Talk" by playertwoisheereandqueer.  
> The vacuum cleaner convo is a direct copy+paste from my friend and I.  
> Also The Pants Song animatics of LinklyShow and GabSketch on YouTube, they're lovely.
> 
> ALSO also, ya wanna know how many tests I had between May 12th and May30th?
> 
> Twelve.
> 
> TWELVE.
> 
> Several took two days for me to complete.
> 
> But guess what?
> 
> SCHOOL'S OUT, HECKERS! I'M WORKING ON THIS TRASH ALL DAY EVERYDAY NOW!


	19. The Play: Act One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The SQUIP's idea of saving the Pitiful Children is very different from Jeremy's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELL YEAH I DID A DOUBLE UPDATE!  
> NOW WHAT?  
> drowninginchamomiletea? Yeah I toooootally copy+pasted a line/description/dialogue thing from one of your fics. So there's a fun little scavenger hunt for you ;) I honestly could NOT have worded it better than you did, not to mention the line was freaking hilarious!  
> Without any further ado, here it is!

The teen scowled. "The only pitiful one is me." The SQUIP whistled. "You'd be surprised, Jeremy. Take Jake Dillinger for example." It flicked its wrist and a translucent blue screen came up, blank until it began listing things off. "His parents are rarely at home with him. He seeks solace in throwing massive house parties at every opportunity. He sleeps around to validate himself. He validates himself to his peers via participation in extracurricular activities he finds no interest in and these aforementioned parties. To top it all off, his house burned down, he broke both of his legs, he and his good friend were rushed to the hospital - different ones, might I add - and his latest girlfriend broke up with him. All on the same night!"

Another swipe and the screen decorated with a bulleted list dissipated, the SQUIP leaning forward a bit. "Jeremy, his entire existence is in shambles." Something told Jeremy that the supercomputer wasn't supposed to be sounding this happy. "You thought he was living the life when the reality is that it was crumbling little by little each day." The SQUIP began to pace, going past the teen. "Give him a SQUIP and he won't have to try and figure out how in God's name he's supposed to put his life back on track. You'd be helping him! You'd be helping everyone." It turned over its shoulder and gave its user a cocky look. "Everyone would love you."

He should give people SQUIPs... Because it would make them like him? "Is that what this is about?" Jeremy asked incredulously. "Popularity?! I couldn't care less about it at this stage!"

"I can sync their desires to yours!" The SQUIP interrupted, earnest, almost gleeful. "You see, my operating system can only truly be complete if everyone shares a social network. Everyone will be working in your favor to help you with your goals. Doesn't that sound great?"

"That... Sounds like brainwashing." Jeremy murmured. The supercomputer gave a shrug, one that said 'eh, you're not wrong.' "Who would ever dream of that?!" A more naive past version of Jeremy would probably jump at the idea, but present day Jeremy was not on board. Really, his intentions in getting a SQUIP were petty and experimental at the time. Now, he knew that he didn't want what the SQUIP had in store.

"Lots of people, Jeremy." It answered. "A SQUIP's sole purpose is to improve its host's life." Usually it refers to the human as the user, what did it say that time? Host? God, that makes it sound like it's a parasite. And what really is it doing if not using Jeremy for its own benefit? And what really is it planning on doing if not spreading and infecting more students? "Some people are more open to change than you are now. Which is why I metaphorically took the decision out of your hands, and let Jenna literally take it out of your hands." All the realizations were having a lot of fun abusing Jeremy's face today. "You're going to SQUIP the whole cast!"

"That's just for starters!"

"For starters?!"

"You said it yourself, 'one for every student and teacher at Middle Borough with some to spare!'" It quoted him in his voice, but with the opposite tone. It was using Jeremy's words against him, the snarky bastard. "That's not what I wanted!"

"It's the only way to achieve what you want." Jeremy gave it a dark look, speaking just above a mumble. "What is this achieving? What. Do I want?" What did it think it was accomplishing that Jeremy would find appealing? What did it evaluate as 'appealing' anyway?

"As I recall, you once said the following:" The SQUIP changed its appearance to that of Jeremy's for the umpteenth time, wearing the infamous Eminem shirt from the day he started talking to Brooke more seriously. And the first day the computer used optic nerve blocking on Michael. And for the umpteenth time, the SQUIP used Jeremy's exact voice and tone. "'I want Christine.'" It stated firmly, turning to face the expressionless teen.

"If this is what it takes, then she's not worth it."

The SQUIP feigned an offended look as it glitched back into its original appearance, putting a hand to where a heart would be. "Wow, rude much? Jeremy, think about it. Compare yourself to Jeremy 1.0. You dress better. You are ninety," It paused. "-three, percent more attractive. You've had more experience with the opposite sex, which is to say you've had experience with the opposite sex." Jeremy rolled his eyes at that one. "Your confidence has increased tenfold. You are the best version of yourself you could possibly be. And you could give that to your peers."

But did they really need SQUIPs to do that for them? Were they really as hopeless as Jeremy was? 'Hopeless' and 'helpless' were the words Rich used forever ago, describing himself pre-SQUIP and (at the time) present Jeremy. That was his persuasion tactic, that was exactly what his SQUIP was doing right now. In all reality, Jeremy was feeling helpless and he already had a SQUIP telling him what to do. He didn't feel at all like he was in control of his life.

He spoke to Michael on Halloween how he thought the SQUIP would instruct him to had it been active, which ended horribly.

Although, would it have gone better if he didn't mimic the SQUIP? Or have it to begin with?

Jeremy had a nice enough conversation with Christine after the bathroom debacle, no SQUIP to tell him what to say or do. He had an alright exchange with that one girl in his math class when he (very stupidly) forgot what day it was, again, with no SQUIP in sight or earshot. He was talking and joking with Jenna in the car and school hallway as if they'd known each other for years, with minimal, MINIMAL input from the SQUIP.

God, even before then.

Talking to Christine on the first day of rehearsal, talking to Christine and Jake later that evening at the mall, right before the SQUIP activated... Everything went fine!

"Do I even need you? Did I... EVER, need you?!"

"You didn't NOT need me." The SQUIP continued on before Jeremy could call that a bullshit answer. "Think of it this way: Do you think you would've ever spoken a word to Jenna had you not been SQUIPped? Much less hold an ever flowing conversation with her?" Truthfully, he couldn't say he did. "It's not that I did anything, but my mere presence gave you the confidence to break the ice with her. You knew how I'd helped you before, so you weren't worried about stammering or anything else that could go wrong. Think placebo, but not quite."

"But if you're a not-quite placebo, then why does everyone supposedly need one of you?"

"Improving lives is a case-by-case process. What may have helped you stand up for yourself may not work for another user. Everyone is different."

"So maybe someone different would be all about having mindless puppets helping them out." Jeremy shot back. "But I'm not." The SQUIP folded its arms curtly. "If you're so astute, then what do you want?" His response was near-immediate. "The opposite of whatever this is." The teen spun on his heel and marched toward the backstage doors, as if he were actually leaving the SQUIP behind. He wasn't, it was still there, hanging in the back of his mind.

The artificial intelligence hummed to itself, pretending that Jeremy had no way of stopping it from SQUIPping everyone. "I promise you, Jeremy, Christine will be wrapped around your finger in no time." He ignored its promise as he slid past various ensemble members to get to the dressing rooms. They would've thought that he was anxious to get into costume, but his bigger concern was stopping the SQUIPs from infecting the cast at the source: that damned shoebox.

The unfortunate thing was that the bearer of the box would be in the opposite changing room that Jeremy was allowed in. The fortunate thing was that he didn't have to knock and pray that he would be met with the girl he intended to confront. By the time he was about to, the door was already opening to reveal Jenna in costume and full makeup with someone's phone blasting music inside the room. Her eyes almost seemed to give off a faint glow in the dim light. If Jeremy wanted to, he could've ignored it. Which he tried to do with debatable success.

Jenna stepped back as to not run into the boy, a little startled. "Hi there."

"No, he's Heere! Not There!" Came a call from behind Jenna, getting both giggles and groans alike. Jeremy would've said it was Christine if the girl sounded anything even vaguely like her, puns were kinda the girl's thing. What he cared more of was the whereabouts of the repurposed box of ladies' running shoes.

All the girls inside Jeremy could see were fully clothed, so he didn't have a huge problem with trying to look around Jenna to see if he could spot the SQUIP carrier on the counter or something. "Good to see you too, I kinda need-"

The girl noticed Jeremy fully leaning to look over her shoulders and above her head, compensating by blocking his view every time he moved. "Excuse you, peeping Tom, what do you think you're doing? Stop that." Several girls all but had their noses pressed against the room-length mirror as they applied mascara (Jeremy thinks anyway, he didn't know anything about makeup) or were singing along to I Kissed a Girl into hairbrushes and curling irons.

Oh yeah, he was kissed by a girl once.

It did NOT end well.

But hey, ya can't say it couldn't've gone worse. Because it most certainly could have.

"Besides, Brooke and Chloe do NOT wanna see you right now. They're kinda pissed at you for being 'late.'" She put air quotes around the word 'late', knowing that she and Jeremy arrived at the same time. "Heard that Mr. Reyes was gonna make himself your understudy."

"But he's understudying for Rich."

"He's both."

"Oh dear God- look, I'm sorry but I seriously need to-" Jenna held her arm out in front of Jeremy so that he couldn't get in the narrow room. He knew as well as anyone else that going would be morally indecent, but dammit, he was trying to prevent a catastrophe! "Hey, stop! I get that you're straight, but that doesn't mean you can barge into the ladies' changing room like that!" Jeremy was about to correct her, but just rolled his eyes instead. "Yeah sure, straight, let's go with that for now."

"Wait, you're not actually? Yes! Brooke owes me ten bucks!"

"Wh-? Ok, good for you, I guess. But listen, can you tell me where-"

"Hey, Jer, I got a bet goin' on with Chloe too. So enlighten us, what's your sexua-"

"Just gimme the shoebox please?!" Again with the un-chill blurting. "Wait, that's all you want?" Jenna laughed and reached around the doorframe, grabbing the unseen SQUIP box and holding it out to Jeremy. "Sure, take it. It's all yours."

The speed at which the boy took the container was hysterical to say the least. He'd barely managed to get a thanks out to her before he was scrambling to find the nearest disposal container. The lighter weight of the box didn't even occur to Jeremy seeing as how he was likely just high off of stress and adrenaline. Despite this, he still saw the SQUIP floating at the edge of his vision no matter where he turned. "You know, Jeremy, it's fun watching you run around like a lab mouse."

"Thought you didn't have emotions."

"I don't. But I know how the average person would react to certain situations according to their speech patterns and social cues. You've heard me laugh and use sarcasm before, this is no different. Therefore, I recognize that this is quite amusing."

"We'll see who's amused after I ruin your plan." Once Jeremy got to a large dark grey trash bin, he opened the shoebox and was paralyzed when he was met with... Nothing. Somewhere in his shocked state, he dropped the box and it landed with a few hollow 'clunks'. "...Where are all the SQUIPs?" The damn computer smirked for the zillionth time. "You'll see."

"That doesn't sound reassuring."

"Nothing I say sounds reassuring to you nowadays."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"Fuming Jake coming in at six o'clock."

"It's like 6:40-"

"Behind you, Jeremy." The SQUIP spat. "YOUR six o'clock."

Oh.

 

OH!

 

Shit!

Jenna didn't tell Jeremy that Jake would be released in time to perform in Midsummer's. Granted, he didn't ask, so... That was kind of on him. But holy shit this would be the first time Jeremy saw him since Halloween and Jake might've been drunk off his ass that night but dammit he was still pissed at him for a misunderstanding that Chloe had crafted and it was this whole elaborate ruse and Jake had almost two weeks in the hospital to himself to think about all the ways he was going to hurt Jeremy for sleeping with his ex which he didn't actually do-

"IDIDN'TSLEEPWITHCHLOEPLEASEDON'THITME!" Jeremy had whipped around with his arms up to defend himself from any oncoming punches. Jake was in his costume with bandages up his legs and crutches under his arms. One arm though, was raised in the air as if it were along its journey to slap someone. That someone would presumably be Jeremy, but nothing about Jake made him seem like he was going to hit him, actually. More than anything, he looked confused as to why the shorter teen had come to that conclusion. "I know..." He said. "And I wasn't going to?"

That, Jeremy was not expecting. "What...?" He cringed at himself for how dumb that sounded. "I know you didn't sleep with Chloe. And I wasn't going to hit you." Jake made a small gesture with his raised hand. "I mean I was, but it was gonna be like a, good luck high-five?" It seemed as though he wasn't the least bit concerned with the drama that included both of them and Chloe, unlike some other people.

"Oh..." Jeremy's eyes flicked back to his raised palm before giving it a smack. It was chaste and weird and God-why'd-you-do-that. Jake looked a little bit like he minded, but shrugged it off. "Wait, how exactly do you know?" Jeremy asked. "That I didn't, um. Do anything with Chloe?" The taller teen raised an eyebrow at him in return. "She told me. That night." Jake said as though it were obvious, yet not in a condescending or rude way. "She was all pouty and saying she was trying to get my attention, I told her it worked, and that led to us-"

"It's! Fine." Jeremy interrupted. "I know the rest." Was Chloe trying to make Brooke jealous by sleeping with Jeremy? Was Chloe trying to make Jake jealous by sleeping with Jeremy? Was Chloe a lying bitch? Was it some combination of the three? Most likely. Jake seemed to pick up on some of the tension the other teen was feeling. "You seem a bit shook." Jeremy gave a weak shrug. "I am."

"I wasn't going to hit you, dude."

"Not about that." He sighed, casually and semi-unintentionally spilling the beans. "I'm freaking out because there's an artificial intelligence imbedded into a pill I took telling me how to act that wants to spread to the entire cast of Midsummer's and improve their lives."

"Haha, same."

"I'm not kidding." Jeremy clarified, fully knowing that most other teenagers would see his little spiel as a metaphor for how tired and stressed he was. "It tells me how to act cool and wants to do the same with the entire school, possibly the world." That's when it seemed to start to sink in for the taller teen that no, Jeremy was not making stuff up. "So. There's a pill."

"Yeah."

"With a computer in it."

"Yup."

"That talks to you."

"Uh-huh."

"So you don't have to like, over-think some little gesture or worry about messing up? Cuz it tells you what to do?"

"Yeah."

"And it's like... Self-aware and wants to spread to other people?"

"Mmhm."

"Cool!"

"I- um, what?"

Jake wasn't able to get a response out before a group of three or four guys noisily came out of the dressing room. One of them patted Jake on the shoulder in the bro-iest way imaginable as they were headed past he and Jeremy. "Break a leg!" The guy chuckled, hurrying off with his friends as they went on their merry way. This made Jake's expression morph into intense apathy before glaring daggers at the back of their heads. Jeremy tried really hard not to address the humor in their good luck wish, he recognized how mean it would be. Instead, we went for an apologetic grimace. "I. Am. So sorry." He said.

Jake sighed in exasperation. "Not cool, you guys!" He half-yelled after the group, shuffling in their direction on his crutches. "I'll waddle over there and kick your asses if it kills me!" The taller teen looked back at Jeremy. "Maybe that drug could teach them a lesson about not being NEEDLESSLY CRUEL!" He shouted the last part back to the guys, putting Jeremy into Rambling Panic Mode as he followed after Jake. "Ok look, I know we haven't talked since Halloween and it might be kind of weird that you were really mad the last time you saw me even though you say you're ok with it now but I think you should REALLY listen to me when I say that this pill isn't a good thing- would you cut that out?!"

Jake gave him a strange look. "Cut what out?"

"Not you, my SQUIP!" It had been giving Jeremy quick, stinging jolts as he was trying to warn Jake. It was being distant during their conversation, but now it felt like it was the perfect time to screw its host over. "Jegus, you sound just like Rich on Halloween." The SQUIPped teen couldn't tell if it was exasperation or worry in the wording, but nonetheless, being told that he sounded like someone that nearly killed himself at a house party didn't sit well with him. At a loss, he let the crippled teen go as he mumbled to himself. "SQUIP this, SQUIP that, what does that even mean?"

Damn, the SQUIP's example for a life that needed improvement liked the idea of the pill. That certainly wasn't good. And knowing Jake, he would probably promote this new thing he found out about to his peers. So Jeremy went around to every cast member he could get to and tell them not to listen to the more popular teen if he'd told them about a life changing drug. A few of them didn't know what he was talking about, Jeremy clarified, and the added info got them hyped up about the idea. Which was obviously the OPPOSITE of what he was going for.

He had gotten to join some of Jake's encounters with other students and try to tell them not to listen to his praising, but to no avail. They either knew and trusted Jake more or thought Jeremy was acting like a lunatic or crackhead. And his SQUIP was silent the whole time! It was sitting there WATCHING Jeremy make a fool of himself for three minutes! It wasn't even humoring him or telling him that his efforts were useless! Somehow the SQUIP's absence was more annoying than its snarky comments. It wasn't until a girl unexpectedly approached Jeremy before he made himself look crazy with an out of the blue blurt.

"Don't listen to him!"

Christine blinked up at him owlishly. "What?"

"Hi, what?"

"Wh-" She shook her head, breaking the cycle. "Are you ok, Jeremy?" The girl asked worriedly. "Jenna Rolan said were being kinda spazzy and twitchy. Do you need a hug?"

Aww... Ok, that was pretty cute. Christine's first instinct when being warned about a twitchy person wasn't to avoid them and call them a freak, but to go up to them and ask them if they wanted a hug. That's a level of innocence that not even many little kids are on. Sweet though it was, it probably wouldn't help Jeremy much. He didn't need her worrying about it anyway. "Thanks, but no. It's just... First show jitters?" The girl raised a slightly skeptical eyebrow. "Is that a statement or a question?"

"...Yyyes?"

She gave Jeremy a look of disbelief, squinting a little and humming to herself. "No one I've ever performed with has been this jumpy or nervous, at least not the way you're being. Is something bigger going on?"

"Nah, it's fine! I always-" He realized how ridiculous his excuse was, but he was going to commit to it. "Sweat... and... shake... this much." Christine put her hands on her hips. "Jeremy." She addressed seriously, pointing a parental look up at him. "If I have to be the mom friend, then I'll be the mom friend." That one girl from Jeremy's math class passed by, carrying a chair. "It's true, she will." She confirmed, setting the seat down and going off to do her own thing.

Jeremy sighed, knowing that Christine would certainly do everything in her power to get him to talk. "It's nothing, I'm fine." He lied. "It's not nothing and you're not fine." The girl pouted, seeing right through the fib as if it were a window. Not that Jeremy put that much effort or feeling into it anyway. "There's nothing you can do to fix it." Christine shrugged. "Maybe not, but how do I know if I can help you if you don't talk to me?" She brought up an excellent point in all honesty. "What's wrong?" She asked again, softer.

Again, Jeremy didn't see any possible way for Christine to be able to help him in his situation. It was nice that she was offering, but still. "Nothing really, there's just a lot of stuff on my mind." It wasn't a lie, but it sure as hell wasn't the truth.

"Does Jewemy wanna tawk about it with Chwistine?" Christine baby-talked to him, putting her hands under her chin. If it were Rich baby-talking, Jeremy would've been annoyed that he was being mocked and treated like a child. Anyone else, he would've wondered if that was what they were going for. With Christine, Jeremy couldn't find even an inkling of a reason to be mad at her. She was clearly trying and offering to help him, even if her method was extremely mom-like. But hey, help is help.

At this point, he decided to accept defeat.

"...A wittle."

That got a smile and a subtle giggle out of the girl. She sat down on a nearby prop bench and ushered Jeremy to do the same, which he did. "I am not impartial to letting people lay on my lap or just straight-up cuddle in case you get the urge." Christine said. Random, but good to know. "I'll keep that in mind." The boy offhandedly assured her. God, where was he even supposed to start? "Ok. This is gonna sound like a joke or like it's not meant to be taken seriously, I swear I'm not making things up."

"Whatever you say, I'll believe you."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye." The girl promised, acting it out. Gruesome, but good to know she's serious. Jeremy was now really hesitant to say anything. C'mon, Jake jumped at the idea when he gave him the lowdown, can you blame him from being anxious? But Christine broke up with him for a reason, right? Maybe she would be different?

"There's a computer in my brain that talks to me." Just rip the bandaid off. "And it keeps telling me that it's making my life better, but it doesn't feel like it is. This computer - it's called a SQUIP - this SQUIP wants to give everyone else at the school a voice in their head too. It's saying that they're all unhappy and the only way to fix that is to give them all SQUIPs."

Jeremy could practically see the gears turning in Christine's head. She looked like she wanted to play along as if he had given her an improv prompt, but remembered that he had said this wasn't a joking matter. She had even promised that she'd believe him. "Really?" It was the only thing she said. Jeremy nodded, he didn't blame her for not believing though. Maybe all those other people were simply being all 'wink wink, nudge nudge' with each other, who knows.

Christine made a little motion with her hands, almost like she was trying to summon the words from an alternate dimension. "And this... Squig?"

"SQUIP."

"SQUIP, that talks to you... What kind of stuff does it say?" Her curiosity went a little deeper than everyone else's had. It was kinda reassuring that she wanted to know more before saying it sounded like the greatest thing since sliced bread, but that could still entirely blow up in Jeremy's face. "It tells me how to act. What to say, wear... It's quiet now! Surprisingly, I don't know why it's not- anyway. Everyone else I've tried to warn about it is all over the idea, they want in."

"So it's basically your guide through life? Your..." Another vague gesture. "Script?" There it was, the deciding factor for Christine. What point was there in trying to protect her anymore? "Exactly like play rehearsal... Except it never has to end." What more could he say? And what kind of person would he be if he lied?

"Jeremy... That sounds awful."

"Says you and everyone el- wait, come again?" All of Jeremy's attention was now on Christine. "That sounds horrible!" More wild flying hands, in true Christine Canigula fashion. "As teenagers, yeah, we've got stuff to figure out, but we don't need some computer in our head to do it for us! That's just-! Wrong!"

"Oh my Go- thank you! Finally, someone in this play with sanity!" Let's just go on and add that to the list of reasons why Christine is the actual best. "Sanity?" She scoffed and waved him off. "Please, I lost that years ago. I prefer to think of it as common sense."

"Common sense isn't common."

"Ain't that the truth."

So yeah, hearing that at least one other person recognized the horrible nature of SQUIPs was the biggest relief Jeremy had had in a while. All the better that it was Christine because she was a great person that didn't deserve to be caught up that big huge mess.

"...Sorry for what I said during tech week."

Ok, that came out of nowhere.

Aside from the fact that it was hell, Jeremy couldn't remember all that much from tech week, much less why Christine would be apologizing to him. "What did you say during tech week?"

"You don't remember?"

"The last two weeks have been a blur, I don't even remember what they were serving at lunch today."

Christine made a face full of dread, seeming to have regretted saying anything. "I'm not sure what it means, but I think I called you a zimt ziege?"

Huh...

Well then.

"Jake told me he took German in middle school and he looked up a bunch of insults and curse words, so he could shout them at people - which he did, quite a bit - and I heard him a lot of the time." The girl began to toy with one of the stones attached to her dress. "For some reason, that one stuck out in my mind and when I got frustrated, I called you that, so. I'm sorry."

"And-" Jeremy had a hard time suppressing a smirk. "What was the insult again?" He was pretty sure he remembered what it was, but just wanted to confirm. "Zimt ziege, I think." She said. The boy couldn't help but snicker at that, even though Christine looked very guilty and slightly scared. "Aw geez, what did I say? Do you know?" Jeremy nodded. "Is it something dirty??" The worry in her voice was understandably very present, as Christine is a lovely cinnamon roll that would never dream of cursing someone out.

"Christine."

"Yeah?"

"You called me a cinnamon goat."

All the guilt and fear drained from her face in an instant, replaced instead with a 'processing' expression. "Is... Is that like, slang for something or...?" The boy shook his head, smiling. "It just means what it means. And I take zero offense to that." Christine gave a big sigh of relief, noticeably relaxing in her seat. "Thank the gods, that guilt has been eating at me since last Friday night."

"No need to worry, Katy Perry, everyone's forgiven you for streaking in the park."

Realizing what she said with a suppressed snicker, she played along with the improv. "And skinny dipping in the dark?" Jeremy gladly continued said improv. "Totally." The girl shook her head. "They shouldn't. I'll do it all again." She sang the second part just as Mr. Reyes was coming backstage from the back hallway, carrying a liquid-filled beaker. That made Jeremy remember that oh yeah, he and Christine were in a play.

"Miss Canigula, Props has whipped up a fresh beaker of Puck's Pansey Serum- oh. Mr. Heere." The sight before him was nothing short of disturbing. The play director and part-time drama teacher had squeezed himself into the fake blood spattered costume that could barely fit Jeremy as it was.

Jeremy. Who was an ACTUAL beanpole.

String bean?

Whatever.

He was a twiggy dude!

The man glanced down at himself and back at Jeremy. "I suppose you'll be wanting your costume back."

Jeremy, in return, stared in disconcerted awe. "Um..."

Mr. Reyes set the prop beaker on the table next to the teens, turning with a dramatic flourish for the door he'd went in through with the intentions of changing. The back of the costume looked no better than the front. Worse, in fact. The little devices holding one seam to the other were bent and warped to the point of being useless, not even serving the purpose they were put there for.

So much for those safety pins...

And the SQUIP said he wouldn't need a replacement costume.

Jeremy would say that he pitied the poor soul that no doubt had to help Mr. Reyes make do and figure out how to get the damn thing on. Not that it mattered anymore. Now HE wouldn't be able to get the damn thing on. The boy dropped his head onto Christine's shoulder, her fault for saying she didn't mind cuddling. "Welp, I'm screwed."

The girl gave an apologetic hum before wrapping an arm around his shoulders, stoking his arm. "Don't sweat it, Jeremy, the show must go on! Besides, we'll be fine. It's not like anyone's referred to The Scottish Play by name and cursed our performance yet."

"MACBETH!" Came a random shout from somewhere.

Because that's just the kind of thing that happens sometimes.

"...The play is cursed, we're all done for." Christine corrected. She'd talked about past performances and how all the ones where someone referred to Macbeth went wrong in some form or fashion. Whether those two things correlated or not was up for debate. "Don't sweat it, Christine, the show must go wrong!"

She suppressed a chortle as she gave a nod of approval. "Nice Parks and Rec reference."

Ok, Jeremy only said that because it was really fitting for the moment, he didn't actually expect her to get the show reference. His expression demonstrated this. "You didn't know I watched Parks and Recreation?" Christine asked dramatically, putting a hand to her heart. "How dare you. Andy Dwyer is my son and I love him."

"Oh, well..." Jeremy started apologetically. "Let me just say, from the bottom of my heart... My bad." They both laughed at this until the stage manager harshly shushed them. They stopped after that, ashamed, before they exchanged a glance and couldn't help but quietly snicker. It was bliss, until Christine realized the time. "Aw shkits, it's already 7:00? Where did the time go?" She asked no one, taking her arm away from Jeremy and standing in a hurry. And it was fine, he only missed the touch a little.

"Sorry, Jeremy, gotta go introduce the show." The girl apologized, gesturing to the curtain opening behind her. "But hey! It was killer to sit and chat again!" She shot a couple finger guns and bid a quick adieu before going onstage. And then Jeremy remembered that the SQUIP was still a thing that existed.

And yeah, that was kind of a mood killer.

Christine's voice came up on the stage microphone, thanking the audience for coming to the show. Mr. Reyes stood on a crate (not in Jeremy's costume anymore, not that he was planning on wearing it) and called for everyone's attention. "Places for Scene One, people! And remember! Once Puck gives you the Pansey Serum, you have to really sell that you're transforming into a zombie!" A brunette shambled across the floor, looking noticeably disheveled. "Excellent work, Miss Valentine!"

Wait. Excellent? Impossible. There was no possible way that Chloe was going to be off-book AND in character tonight. She's been a hot mess from the start! Unless... Oh... Oh dear God, no.

"Mr. Reyes?" To say Jeremy was freaking out inside was an understatement. "What's in the Pansy Serum?" He started out sounding cool and collected, but his voice began to waver near the end. The teacher waved him off like he was an ignorant child. "Don't let the color worry you, it's just plain old Mountain Dew."

Uh oh...

"Also, Jenna Rolan put some wintergreen tic-tacs at the bottom."

NO!

Jeremy's eyes widened before an initially silent voice cut in. "Up, up, down, down, left, right, A!"

What Mr. Reyes did was akin to shutting down, sending an extra shot of panic through the teen. He had to do something about that beaker. Jeremy was about to make a break for it until a hand grasped onto his shoulder, surprisingly tight. "And Jeremy," He flinched at the sound of his name, seeing the drama teacher shrug off years of shlubbiness. The teacher had a glow in his eye, much like how Jenna had, but worse. More menacing.

"Don't even think about trying to ruin my big night." Mr. Reyes muttered with a grin, releasing his grip on Jeremy. He walked away from the teen, not breaking eye contact until Jeremy did so. He was distracted by the familiar sound of Brooke, the poor girl, practicing her lines. She was still excruciatingly bad.

"What angel... wakes me from my... My... um, flowery bed?" The blonde moved her mask up to rub at her eyes. "God, I'm so thirsty..." By some mysterious force, she turned her head toward the beaker, shrugging and reaching for it. In a matter of seconds, she'd tipped it back all the way upon bringing it to her lips.

Panic Mode: Engaged

"Brooke, no!"

The girl flinched, holding a hand under her chin as to not spit anything out or have it dribble on the floor. She blinked up at Jeremy. "No what?" Brooke asked, setting the beaker down with her eyes still on the boy. As if on cue, she made a sound of pain. It legit looked like she was just bitch slapped by a ghost. It was Jeremy's turn to flinch that time, more of fear than surprise. He hovered a hand over her shoulder, afraid to touch her.

"Shitshitshitshitshit, are you ok?" The girl's hair draped down to cover her face like a set of blonde curtains, some of it laced through her fingers. She made a sustained whine as she rubbed at her head and... Oh God. No, she was NOT laughing, she was NOT evil!

Brooke's head snapped up to the boy as she dragged a talon-like fingernail down his jaw, her face holding some wild, alien expression. Jeremy wouldn't admit that he downright shuddered, actually SCARED of the girl for once. "I warn thee, gentle mortal, it's time to FEED again!" He scrambled away from her in both awe and horror. A clunky, awkward interpretation of a character turned truly terrifying.

And it'd all become too much.

Jenna getting SQUIPped.

Jake liking the idea of SQUIPs.

Most of the cast liking the idea of SQUIPs.

The Mountain Dew-SQUIP concoction being a prop.

Mr. Reyes being SQUIPped.

Brooke getting SQUIPped.

Just too much.

So there he was, panicking in the dressing room with his jacket discarded. Because where else was he supposed to panic? He'd even gone so far as to go into the adjoining bathroom. The door connecting to the outer hallway blocked out sound pretty well, but he wanted to be extra safe and go behind yet another door if he wanted to yell at his SQUIP without getting weird looks. That, and he needed to calm himself the hell down. So where better than the place with running water that was always too damn cold.

And yeah. There he was. Panicking in the bathroom. The water was making Jeremy's already cold and clammy hands even more so, a small price to pay to splash his face because this was just a dream, a really messed up dream. A dream that he could just wake up from, this wasn't real, none of this was real. Oh who would dream of this- this was a nightmare! Convenient, considering the apocalyptic setting of the play.

"I don't see why you insist on trying to stop me, Jeremy. There's nothing you can do!" The SQUIP said happily. "I'll know about and thwart any plan you try to formulate, I'm inside your brain! Your only real hope is that some outside force that my intel processor doesn't predict will come along and solve all your problems." The teen threw another double handful of water into his face, as if it could silence the voice in his head.

"The only person I could imagine helping me out is Michael, and he hasn't done so much as look at me since Halloween." Jeremy sighed guiltily, knowing he'd done the exact same thing for almost four times as long as Michael had. "Guess now I know how it feels. A little." He mumbled as cold water droplets slithered down his face. The supercomputer gave an unseen look of surprise. "Wow, you fell for that so much harder than I anticipated."

Jeremy's head whipped around to the SQUIP. Had it actually just said that? "Fell for what?" He hissed. "What's your game?" It gave a disappointed hum, almost indifferent. "And here I thought you were getting smarter. Academically, anyway. Although, I thought you would catch on quicker than this."

"Just call a spade a spade, alright?" The teen spat, turning off the hissing faucet using its squeaky handles. "Quit speaking in riddles for once and tell me what the hell you're talking about!" That sent the SQUIP doubling over with laughter. "Oh. My God. This. Is. Priceless!"

Remember that whole no-emotions-but-the-computer-knows-how-to-react-in-certain-scenarios thing? Yeah, Jeremy thought it was kinda overdoing it here. He shot a dirty look at it, knowing he didn't have to voice his thoughts out loud for it to understand. The SQUIP gave one last sigh to 'compose' itself, wiping a fake tear. "Tell me, Jeremy..." It crooned. "What's the opposite of optic nerve blocking?"

The opposite of optic nerve blocking? What did that have to do with Michael's interest - or lack thereof - of Jeremy? He had seen him everyday at school since Halloween. The SQUIP wasn't blocking Michael from his vision, it was doing-

The exact...

Opposite...

Hold on.

Optic nerve blocking versus the exact opposite.

Not seeing something - someone - that is there...

Versus...

Seeing someone that isn't there.

One might call it hallucinating.

Oh no.

"Michael hasn't really been at school?!" It wasn't actually anger Jeremy's voice this time, no, the idea that what he'd been seeing wasn't real was too scary for him to be mad at it. He distrusted the SQUIP because it had been overall irritating. Now, now he couldn't trust it because it could alter his perception of reality.

It could make him see whatever it wanted him to see.

"Not since October." It answered.

Teachers looking right through him, passing through the school halls as if the traffic wasn't shit, never getting randomly called on to answer questions, not acknowledging the announcements that came over the intercom, getting completely ignored by classmates, not even looking at Jeremy, it made perfect sense in hindsight.

He hadn't been at school since October.

"B... Because of me, right?!" Jeremy couldn't even blame the SQUIP for that, it didn't directly do anything. It didn't do anything whatsoever on Halloween. That was Jeremy. That was ALL Jeremy. That was intoxicated Jeremy, but that was Jeremy. That was the final nail.

The SQUIP gave a very specific shrug. You know the one, the kind where the person is pretending that they don't have all the answers that you're looking for. Its devilish smirk wasn't helping Jeremy feel any better. In fact, it made his mind settle heavily onto the worst case scenario. "If... He hasn't been going to school..." He looked up desperately at the SQUIP, which was wearing an unsettlingly content expression. Jeremy began slowly shaking his head. "No... No, he cou- he- no. He- he didn't, he wouldn't! W... Would he?"

If Michael wasn't going to school anymore, was there a possibility that he wasn't living anymore? The SQUIP didn't answer this question in either the affirmative or the negative. It didn't answer. Period. That was WORSE than getting his suspicions confirmed. "P... Please, God, no, tell me he didn't!"

"I don't understand the request." The computer said cheerily. "What's that supposed to mean?!" Anger, fear, frustration, a mix of all three, whatever it was, it was threatening to boil over the edge of Jeremy's composure and goddamn sanity. "I don't understand the question." The SQUIP gave that infuriating shrug again.

"You're not even gonna tell me?!" The chances of his voice not cracking on the sentence were a million to one, the fact that it hadn't was bewildering. "What is wrong with you?! Why do you do this?!" Jeremy's stammering barely sounded like any noise a human could make, his words were not serving him well. His eyes stung from frustration and fear and he just wanted to hit something, also curse the supercomputer out. God, there was a lot he wanted to do, he couldn't focus on one thing. There were too many ways he could've insulted the SQUIP, too many things he could have called it, though he eventually settled for, "Manipulative shithead tic-tac bastard!"

For the life of him, Jeremy just could not stand still. Whether he was using all his willpower not to punch the wall or trying to get himself to stop shaking like a leaf, he was having little success all the same. One part of him whispered 'screw it' louder than imaginable and he went to swing, but found he couldn't. It was as if someone were forcefully holding his arm back. "Ah ah ah." The SQUIP tutted as if Jeremy were a child. "We don't want a repeat of September second now, do we?"

Dates. Dates were getting harder to remember. September felt like so long ago, especially the beginning.

"What are you talking about?" The teen spat out through gritted teeth, seeing his mixed-emotion-flooded face reflected back at him. He could see the SQUIP standing behind him in the mirror, making him return to another painful memory in eerie vividness. He could so vividly hear the piercing shriek of shattering glass ringing against the ceramic walls. So vividly see the near-microscopic shards glittering the bowl of the sink and the tens of cracks branching off in all directions on the reflective surface. See the thick, red liquid following the paths down to the silver, crimson-spattered faucet. The scar in his hand stretching from the very base of his thumb to just below his pinky, getting slightly thicker in the center of his palm before thinning out again. He remembered later retrieving Brooke's phone number the day he smashed the mirror and getting stitches with her family soon after.

Goddammit...

God.

Dammit.

Jeremy forced his arm back to his side, trembling from about every negative emotion he could think of. "You promised you'd never remind me of that." He muttered under his breath, trying to control the breathing in question. "And Hitler promised not to invade Czechoslovakia, Jeremy. Welcome to the real world." With that, there was really nowhere else for him to go except for the backstage area. He was prolonging the inevitable by hiding in the bathroom, he'd still have to face the reality of either preventing the SQUIPpening or letting it happen. Both were stressful and frightening to think about, could he make it through either? He didn't know, he couldn't stay hiding in the changing room no matter how much he irrationally thought it would help.

When Jeremy eventually pushed himself out of the room, Jenna was outside the door and up the hallway. She was recording in selfie mode, holding her phone up high so that the large group of cast members behind her could be seen. If he wasn't mistaken, the girl was streaming on YouTube. And if he wasn't mistaken, almost all the girls in the play were scream-singing with Jenna. You know, and the dudes too.

The last thing he cared about though, was that. More than anything, he was terrified. He was terrified for Jenna, for Jake, for Rich, Christine, the entire cast of Midsummer's, himself, the school, the world.

For Michael.

Jeremy squeezed through the karaoke group and couldn't help but get minor flashbacks to when he ran through the crowd singing along with Whitney Houston. The difference was that this time, they were singing Taylor Swift acapella. And this time, Jeremy would learn from his past mistakes of taking Jenna's recordings for YouTube videos for granted.

"-I'M ON THE BLEACHERS DREAMIN' 'BOUT THE DAY WHEN YOU WAKE UP AND FIND THAT WHAT YOU'RE LOOKIN' FOR HAS BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME-"

"Help me!"

"-F YOU COULD SEE THAT I'M THE ONE WHO UNDERSTANDS YOU-"

They kept singing their song horribly off-key and Jeremy probably would've joined if he wasn't completely mentally and emotionally damaged. Also if the SQUIP wasn't a total killjoy here. Oh God, now he's thinking about the SQUIP killing Joy Heere. More than that, he was thinking about all the damage his SQUIP had already done.

God, he looked terrified in the half second he was talking to the camera for. He'd even admit that his voice broke a bit. But who would take it seriously? For all Jenna's viewers knew, he wanted to be 'saved' from his fellow cast-mates screeching song lyrics and that he was just a really, really good actor. Did his cry for help even do anything or will it just become a running joke later? Shit. Why wasn't he more specific?

He wasn't going to rejoin the group and explain his cry for help to Jenna's phone though, half of the students were about to go onstage or move a set piece for Scene Two anyway. Maybe Scene Three? Had they even finished the opening scene? Oh who even knows or remembers? Jeremy sure as hell doesn't, his sense of time had also been pretty screwy lately.

Was Jenna even streaming or would she not upload the video until the next day? God, it was already too late. The show had probably begun. Or it was about to begin. Whatever. The vast majority of the cast would drink Puck's Drugged Pansy Soda. They'd all get SQUIPped. There was nothing Jeremy could do. The supercomputer grinned. "Game. Set. Match."

 

**GAME OVER**

**Insert Coin To Continue...?**

**10...**

**9...**

**8...**

 

Jeremy was running out of ideas, coins? Players? He was on his own, he was the only person who could stop the SQUIP. The only one who WANTED to.

 

**7...**

**6...**

 

Jeremy was desperate for anyone that could possibly help him. AnyTHING that could possibly help him. Anything at all.

 

**5...**

**4...**

 

Grasping at straws was really the best he could do at this point. What else could he do? What really could he do except throw in the towel and accept defeat?

 

**3...**

Hell, just knock back a cold one and watch the world fall apart.

 

**2...**

 

A cold one.

 

**1...**

If he knew his peers, one of them had probably snuck some form of alcohol into the school. A glass bottle, a can, flask, water bottle that was actually filled with vodka, anything!

"I'll fight back!"

 

**RESPAWN**

 

Jeremy gained some newfound hope with his sudden recollection. "Alcohol messes you up, right? I'll get drunk!"

"And I'll be back when you're sober!" The SQUIP responded gleefully. "Unless you plan on staying wasted forever?" Goddammit, it was right. So much for that. The worst part, Jeremy decided, was how cocky the SQUIP was being. How confidently it had been implying that it won. He had to think of a possible weakness that he wasn't quite getting. "You're a computer, there has to be a way to turn you off!"

"I will neither confirm nor deny that."

Of course it wouldn't, it was too smart for that. Although giving that as an answer usually meant that the person didn't want you to know that you were right. Or maybe that was what the SQUIP wanted him to think. Or maybe THAT was what the SQUIP wanted him to think. Was it smart enough to think of a good way of hiding its possible shut down function? Was there a shortcut? Was Jeremy over-thinking it? Could the answer be hidden in plain sight? "Shut down! Control F4!"

The SQUIP quirked an eyebrow at him. "Did you really think it would be that simple?"

Right, he'd have to think outside the box. There was probably a pair of boxes. (That doesn't make sense, but whatever. The SQUIP is confusing so now apparently its analogies are confusing!) Box, pair, pair of boxes, pair o' box, paradox! In the event of rouge AI, know your paradoxes!

"Your new mission: refuse this mission!"

The SQUIP said nothing, simply giving Jeremy that degrading and disheartening 'you're an idiot' look. It certainly worked.

"This... sentence is false?" He said as more of a question, less sure of himself.

"This isn't a video game, Jeremy."

Please, no, this was the best idea he could think of! It was the only chance Jeremy had!

"Does a set of all sets contain itself?!"

"Jeremy."

"'No comment' is a comment!"

"I would stop there." Well, annoying the SQUIP still had its perks. It scoffed. "You don't want to end up like Rich." Rich? What did he have to do with anything? "What do you mean?" There was something almost conspiratorial in the way it explained itself. "He tried to turn his SQUIP off on Halloween. And look where he is now. He's actually quite lucky he didn't share the same fate as a certain, oh I don't know... Harvard student?"

Harvard student, the same one Michael was talking about? It felt like a million years ago that they had that confrontation, but it was one part of the night that Jeremy couldn't forget if he tried.

 

_"Jeremy, his SQUIP didn't make him crazy- HE WENT CRAZY TRYING TO GET IT OUT!"_

 

Harvard Student went crazy trying to get his SQUIP out.

Rich almost killed himself trying to get his SQUIP out.

That must've been why everyone thought he was being hysterical. What were they saying again? Behaving hazy like a tweaking junky, flailing crazy like a freaking monkey... Why was that? What was he saying while everyone else was too busy singing 'I Wanna Dance With Somebody' and puking in vases and running from six feet and two inches of drunken raging fury?

 

_"Got any Mountain Dew Red?"_

_"Red Mountain Dew? Anyone? Like, anyone?!"_

_"I need Mountain Dew Red!"_

_"It's like regular Mountain Dew? But red?!"_

_"Hey, HEY! Madeline! Madi! Mads! Got any-? Ok, gross. Barf in your hair. Anyway, Mountain Dew Red, PLEASE say you know where I can find some??"_

_"ALRIGHT, listen up cuz I'm only gonna say this once! If I don't get some Mountain Dew Red RIGHT NOW, I SWEAR to GOD, I will kill EVERYONE at this party AND myself!"_

_"Jegus, you sound just like Rich on Halloween. SQUIP this, SQUIP that..."_

 

Harvard Student went crazy trying to get his SQUIP out.

Rich almost killed himself trying to get his SQUIP out.

Rich almost killed himself over Mountain Dew.

Red, as opposed to sickly yellow-green.

Green, which he used to turn his SQUIP on.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"That's it! Green Mountain Dew activates you, red shuts you off!" Finally, he'd figured it out! "Why do you think we had it discontinued? To get rid of me now, you'd need a time machine to the 1990s!" Damn, it was right. Except for one teensy little thing that made Jeremy feel like he held all the cards. "Or a friend who's so old school, he buys 90s soft drinks from the back room at Spencer's Gifts!" The SQUIP gasped, too dramatically to be even the slightest bit genuine. That's when it sunk in. "Awww, too bad you don't have one of those! Anymore!"

Dammit! Dammitdammitdammit! Jeremy's one chance at redemption and he'd called it a loser! He'd ignored it for two months and talked down to it and called it a loser and any chance he had of apologizing was gone. Just gone! What the hell did he do? How could he? He let this happen!

 

Although...

 

Would he really put it past his SQUIP to make him think that Michael offed himself when he really didn't?

 

 

No.

No he wouldn't.

Fueled by spite and determination, Jeremy grabbed for his phone and went into his messaging app. The SQUIP waved him off. "Go on, try it! See what happens!" For once in his life, Jeremy's contact list consisted of more than two. (He didn't even text half the numbers, he just had them for the sake of having those connections.) It was the longest it had ever been, but he still doubted he'd have any trouble finding the name he was looking for. The point stood that Michael didn't have any reason to want to hear from him ever again, but dammit, Jeremy was desperate.

Let's see... Brooke is Losht, Chloe Valentine's Day, Christina Caniguilera, Dad is Heere, Jake Dick-Licker, Jenna Rolan Around, Rich Gore and Skis, Zoe the Murph...

 

That's not right...

 

Brooke, Chloe, Christine, Dad, Jake, Jenna, Rich...

 

No Michael.

"Where is his contact? What did you do?!" It was always the SQUIP, the SQUIP was always doing something. "I didn't do anything!" The aforementioned SQUIP laughed. "You deleted Michael's contact information!" Jeremy shot it a look. "Bullshit, I wouldn't!"

"Would you?"

"No!"

"Would you?"

"NO!"

If it could block an entire person from his field of vision, it could one hundred percent make Jeremy's eyes completely skim something like Michael's name. Sentient - no, not sentient - self-aware technology was going against him, he needed something he knew would work in his favor. Hell, even something that only had a slight chance of working in his favor would do fine!

Siri it is then.

Jeremy held down the home button and hoped for the best. At that moment, 'the best' was the woman's near-monotonous voice and accompanying text.

_**"What can I help you with?"** _

He only barely remembered to hold his thumb down on the microphone icon before giving his phone the command in the heat of the moment.

"Michael! Call Michael!"

The couple of seconds it took for his words to register to the phone - and for The Spinning Loading Wheel of Death to spin - were the longest seconds of his life. He was scared that Siri would ask him to repeat his request or that the SQUIP would somehow make the device not work because that would totally be the kind of thing it would do-

_**"Calling: Michael"** _

"Yes!" Jeremy cheered triumphantly, pointing a finger at the voice in his head. "Eat shit, SQUIP!" He knew it was lying, he would never do something as rash as deleting Michael's number from his phone! Even after everything, he wouldn't let it convince him to do such a thing.

Just as the phone began ringing, his hand twitched violently and he about dropped the device. "It's pointless resisting, Jeremy!" He had hoped he'd never have to hear the SQUIP sound like that ever again. And he would soon have to update his hopes as its voice somehow became even more distorted. Jeremy's phone heart-stopping-ly clattered to the ground, his hands finally giving way to the deathly grip of electricity. "I'm going to improve your life even if I have to take over the entire student body to do it!"

Remember when Jeremy woke up the morning after Halloween? The first time?

Remember when his SQUIP shocked him more than it had ever shocked him in all the time it had been active?

Remember how angry it sounded?

Remember how distorted its voice was?

Remember how much noise there was?

Remember how much Jeremy wanted to scream but couldn't?

Remember how that made it feel all the worse?

Remember how he ended up crying himself back to sleep?

Remember how much pain he was in?

Remember how much he thought he was going to die?

That?

Aha.

That was nothing.

Words couldn't effectively describe the amount of torture he was being put through, it was every bit of horrible as that morning was and more. More static, more pain, more distortion, more warbling, more dizziness, more, more, more, more. He didn't know when he collapsed onto the ground, only knowing that the impact would likely form some big bruises on his legs, arms, whatever in the near future. He was on the ground, completely paralyzed from the pain. Had the SQUIP shut down his nervous system? Maybe, he couldn't move his arms or legs, couldn't really feel the ground beneath him either. Jeremy was done for. He had fallen to the ground and the ground fell right from underneath him and he was left floating in space and there's no air in space and no air means no breathing and no breathing means no living and no living means it's-

 

**GAME OVER: NO RESPAWN**

 

Jeremy could hear someone far away say something. It wasn't clear what they said, it was washed out and echoey. But it sounded vaguely like 'uncle hates the end game' or 'Mike Holt cakes an N train.'

Or...

"Michael makes an entrance!"

But that was crazy, just plain silly in fact.

 

Or was it?

He thought it was, until he heard a sooth-as-honey chuckle among the static and had enough feeling in his limbs to realize that he was being propped up on someone's shoulder. Until he got his eyes barely open enough to see the dark-colored ground (it really was there) beneath his own shoes... And someone else's; white sneakers with random pen scribbles on the sides of the soles. Jeremy's eyes slowly climbed up to see some jeans, the hem of a red hoodie, a patch that read 'RISE ABOVE RACISM', a Pac-Man patch, white headphones, and the teen's face lit up like the goddamn sun when the very last thing he saw was...

"MICHAEL!"

If you were to tell Jeremy that the sound he made when he put two and two together and realized Michael came to his rescue was reminiscent of a cross between a velociraptor having a stroke, a shrieking banshee, and a little girl finding out that she got a real live pony for her birthday...

 

Well...

 

HE WOULDN'T DENY IT FOR A SECOND!

He was so shamelessly excited - no, ecstatic! - to find out that Michael had come for him. For the first time in months, something had actually felt right!

Never mind the fact that he still felt like he was being choked to death by the SQUIP's electricity. Never mind the fact that the entire cast was being brain-washed and taken over by SQUIPs. Never mind the fact that the rest of the school would be going through the same treatment. Never mind the fact that half of what Jeremy could hear was just ugly static. Never mind the fact that he felt like he could collapse and pass out at any second. He didn't think anything could have possibly made him more thrilled in that moment.

He couldn't help it, he threw his arms around his savior and hugged him like he was the only thing that mattered. At that moment, he was. Jeremy didn't care that the sudden lurch forward made him a lot more lightheaded than he would've liked. He didn't care that he was making a really weird, vaguely sob-sounding giggly noise. He didn't care that Michael's headphones were digging into his neck. He didn't care that the sweater-clad teen supporting him staggered back a bit as he practically caught him to keep one or both of them from falling back onto the ground. He didn't care because finally, FINALLY, he got the hug he'd been dying for.

And Michael was hugging back. And he was hugging back tight. Maybe it was just because Jeremy basically threw himself at him. Maybe it was because he didn't want to drop him. Or maybe, just maybe, it could've even been because he wanted that hug just as badly as his... Friend? Yes, just as badly as his friend did. No, not just his friend, his BEST friend. Right? Yeah, if this hug was any indicator, they were more than ok with being on the same team again.

Jeremy would've hugged Michael for another, like, three hours, if he wasn't internally questioning how the hell his best friend got to him so quickly. Keeping some of the proximity, he pulled away from the pure state of nirvana that was his friend's strong embrace. "What are you doing here?" He asked, breathless. Michael had bent down to scoop up Jeremy's fallen phone, free of cracks, thankfully. "No, you're Heere. I'm Mell." He smirked, presenting the device to the other teen, which he gladly took.

Ha, if only he really was Heere. Honestly though, pining was the last thing that Jeremy was concerned with. Who cares that Michael's not Heere?! He's HERE! That's more than good enough! He still found amusement in the joke about his last name, very eminent in the grin taking up half his face by now. "Of course." Jeremy giggled, pocketing his phone. "How could I forget?"

"For real though, I was just in the audience thinking, 'this is pretty good for a school play!' Then I was all like, 'THIS IS WAY TOO GOOD FOR A SCHOOL PLAY!!' They've all been SQUIPped, right?" Jeremy was about to laugh at Michael's analysis of the show's unreasonably high quality until his brain actually processed what that all meant.

"W-w-wait, you came to see me in the play?!" The words came out super squeaky while his face flushed bright pink and he felt like he could've cried tears of pure happiness. Michael paying to see a stupid school play consisting of brick-faced teens who don't know how to act just so he could see Jeremy perform was about the softest thing he could've ever imagined, although that could've been because the blue-eyed teen was insanely and ridiculously high off of 'holy shit, MICHAEL is here'. A casual shrug. "Even brought my own refreshments!" He reached into his hoodie pocket and-

Holy.

Shit.

Michael ex machina eat your heart out!

No, really, it didn't feel real how perfect it was that Michael came as prepared as humanly possible. No, MORE than humanly possible! If Jeremy didn't think highly of the other teen before, he sure as hell did now! He could practically hear the angel choir harmonizing as the stray stage light reflected through the red soda. It made Jeremy want to kiss Michael. Just a little bit.

Well ok, A LOT a bit, but still!

"Is that-?!"

"Mountain Dew Red! Told you I did my research!"

"That's amazing! Give it-!"

"Ah-dut-dut-dut!" Michael held the bottle out of Jeremy's reach and waved a finger at him. "...No." That made his heart sink to the bottom of the ocean. 'No?' "B-b-b-b-but I need it." Jeremy would've cringed at himself for his whininess and stuttering if he weren't more concerned with the red soda that was so close yet so far. The teen holding said soda gave a serious look. "And I need an apology."

"Huh?" Jeremy squeaked dumbly, though he subconsciously got the gist of what Michael was saying. From the looks of it, he was about to go into a rant that he had planned out for an event such as this one. "Seriously, you shut me out for weeks and ignored me when I tried to help you-"

"You know what, no, that's fair!" Jeremy put his hands up defensively. Apologizing was the absolute barest of all possible bare minimums he could do. "That's totally fair, I get it! I'm s-"

"Vocal Cords: Blocked."

The words got caught in Jeremy's throat, though he tried desperately to get the all-important five-letter word out. "Sss, sssrraahrr..." It didn't work, to put things gently. Michael simply rolled his eyes, a familiar sight, no thanks to a certain All Hallows' Eve. "Really? Is it that hard to say you're sorry?"

It shouldn't be, Jeremy didn't know why it was. Until the SQUIP flickered into existence directly behind Michael right where the SQUIPped teen could see it. It gave a playful wave before sticking its tongue out and its middle finger up over the tanner teen's shoulder before glitching away again. Once again, it was knowingly screwing its host over. An uncharacteristic execution and taunt though. Jeremy wanted to punch it. It must have really wanted to make it difficult for him to get the right words out.

He would fully admit that Michael no longer had any reason to trust him, but dammit, Jeremy was desperate! "Yyyes! Now please! This is important!" Michael shrugged mock-casually. "This is important to me." He said matter-of-factly.

Of all the times he could've chosen to be stubborn, Michael just had to pick now.

"It's a word!"

"It's a gesture, gestures matter!"

"Well how's this for a gesture?"

Jeremy wasn't trying to say that.

Why did he say that?

And why did he flip Michael off? That was the opposite of what he wanted to do! The hoodie-wearing teen raised a disgusted eyebrow at him. Not offended by the 'gesture' itself, but for the apparent immaturity behind it. "Really? What are you, twelve?"

'No, BUT APPARENTLY MY SQUIP IS!'

That's what Jeremy wanted to say.

"Kung Fu Fists: Activate."

That's not what he ended up saying.

"This is soooo like you!"

That's what he actually said. But wait, he didn't believe that! Why was he saying that?! Whatthehellwhatthehellwhatthehell?! God, it's just like when he was spouting off Rich's locker combination but worse. Instead of saying things he didn't know, he was saying things that were downright wrong! Had that happened when Jeremy had his fight with his dad? Oh God, oh nononononononono!

As though he had lost all control over his body as well as his speech, punches were being thrown on Jeremy's end and barely dodged on Michael's. The tanner teen looked about as confused and scared as the paler one felt, doing everything in his power to protect the 90s soda in his hand. Jeremy tried to resist and pull back and just stop trying to hit Michael and the bottle but it wasn't working! He tried saying it wasn't him, but he got a jolt of electricity every time he did. "You just love to feel superior because you eat eel on your sushi and listen to music on vinyl!"

Michael blinked in surprise, clearly trying to process what Jeremy had just said. "What?!" Jeremy's thoughts were the exact same, he never thought his friend viewed himself as being above everyone else. Where the hell did that come from?! Where were the fighting moves coming from? He'd never imagined himself doing anything like that unless it was in a video game. A video game? Oh God, the SQUIP was controlling him. His actions, his speech, he was a puppet on a string. Or a character on a screen.

Shit, no!

"And you don't care about being popular!"

That was probably one of Jeremy's favorite parts about Michael! He didn't care about popularity, he didn't care about the social hierarchy, he was perfectly fine with being his own person and doing his own thing! That was a good thing! Jeremy tried to say so, only to get more course-correction shocks. When he tried directing the punches away from Michael, his arm would jolt back toward the teen. No matter what he tried, he just couldn't get his shit together.

 

_God, I wish I had the skill to just be fine and cool and chill._

_Like Michael._

Michael caught hold of one of Jeremy's wrists, struggling to keep his hit from landing. "Of course I care!" He argued, seeming vulnerable. "I just know it's never going to happen!" Jeremy - no, the SQUIP controlling Jeremy - used all its force to free his arm from Michael's grasp. It did work, though the sheer momentum tipped Jeremy off balance and made him fall on top of Michael, both of them grunting at the impact of hitting the ground. He probably would've been embarrassed by the now-compromising position if he wasn't in the midst of both an internal and external battle.

The Mountain Dew Red fell out of Michael's possession with a dense thudding sound, followed by a quiet hiss as a thick layer of pink foam began to form atop the meniscus of the soda. The bottle jerkily rolled a few feet away before coming back halfway and coming to a wobbly halt.

Michael was somehow able to successfully capture both of Jeremy's wrists despite the fact that the wind had been knocked right out of him. The SQUIP fought him for the teen's arms, jerking them about. Some margin of that could've also been Jeremy fighting for control of his body, however much it hurt to try and take over and tell Michael what he wanted- what he needed to. Again, the words got twisted in his throat and came out as something completely different. "So you resent me because I didn't give up like you did?" The SQUIP made him say accusingly. "Wh- NO!" To say Michael looked and sounded hurt would barely be sufficient. "God, no! I don't resent you, I'm just jealous you try!"

"WELL I'M JEALOUS YOU DON'T!"

That was the first thing Jeremy actually managed to say without the SQUIP taking over and saying something else.

"Then why are you hitting me?!"

He wouldn't let it go to waste.

"I'm not trying to!"

"Well don't try harder!"

"I'm trying!"

"Wait, so you are trying to hit me?"

"No! I'm trying to not try!"

"Jesus Christ, Jer- What are you trying to say?!"

"It's not me! It's-" More unbearable shocks of discouragement. He didn't care. Or he tried not to anyway, sloppily tearing himself off of Michael to the best of his ability. "IT'S MY SQUIP!" It came out raspy and choked, but dammit, better late than never. And that? That made Michael stop. Eyes widen. Sit up. Blink. Glare. "It's. What?" The second part came out as more of a growl, and Jeremy hoped to God that the aggression wasn't aimed at him. He hugged his knees up against his chest, caving in on himself little by little.

"It- it's got control over my body. It's MAKING me hit you! It made me shut you out! I swear on my life, I never REALLY wanted to ignore you!" Talking hurt, talking really hurt. His voice was tight and strained, but like hell was he going to let himself cry again. He'd been doing too much of that lately and the SQUIP was all to blame. And like hell was he going to NOT talk at the one opportunity he was presented with in the past couple minutes. He involuntarily hiccuped. "You just- you gotta help me, man! I'M SORRY!!" Jeremy's voice was raw, really raw. If he didn't talk loud though, it felt as though the SQUIP could drown him out again. He didn't cry, but damn, did he feel like he was going to. Yes, he sounded hysterical, but was that really the worst part? One would think not.

At first, Michael looked confused. Then angry once Jeremy said it was the SQUIP controlling him. Then a little confused again, but still angry? Like damn was he confused or angry? Confangry? Ya know what, let's go with that, confangry. Michael gave a confangry look before it settled on tenacity. He reached over for the soda and made it halfway to Jeremy. "Get over here, Heere."

The SQUIPped teen brought his partially blurred gaze up to Michael, who looked ready to get down to business. Caught off guard by the sudden change of plan, Jeremy shifted to his knees. "Y-you're helping me?" Michael hummed in thought for a moment. "Let's just say if your SQUIP had an ass, I'd kick it." There was something sort of bitter there, but also a slight hint of mischief? Michael Mell would kick the SQUIP's ass for controlling Jeremy.

He had to admit it was an appealing thought.

What WASN'T an appealing thought was the SQUIP kicking Michael's ass, which most certainly still had a high chance of happening. As long as the computer was still active, it could still prevent or slow down its much-wanted deactivation. Jeremy had a difficult enough time saying what was on his mind, trying to turn off the thing controlling him would be a whole other beast. Michael wasn't even enough to get him to stop fighting, he'd need at least another person to help him keep the discontinued soda safe.

An instantly recognizable 'clackity clack' came to Jeremy's attention, the undeniable sound of crutches in motion. Perfect. Jeremy lightly elbowed Michael, making a general motion to Jake and the two of them. Getting the basic idea of what he was going for, Michael waved for the handicapped teen's attention. Jake caught the motion and shuffled over with a look of curiosity.

"Jake! Uh, this is gonna sound super weird, I just know it. But if I hold down Jeremy, can you make him drink this Mountain Dew Red?" Michael tossed the soda bottle up to the crutched teen, who caught it and looked it over. He flashed up a grin that anyone who was attracted to dudes would swoon at. "Actually, that doesn't sound weird at all."

"Wait, really?"

Jake quirked an eyebrow at the pair. "I'm in the theatre department, dude. I've heard weirder."

"It's true, we've heard weirder." Jeremy confirmed. "I once overheard a guy say 'why did I try weed, oh my God, I'm gonna die, I feel like a DVD player' and that's not even the weirdest thing." He didn't hear Michael's response, instead only hearing-

"Up, up, down, down, left, right, A!"

Jake hissed and winced at some internal pain before grinning like a shark and unscrewing the cap with just his thumb and index finger, holding the bottle with the rest of his right hand. The soft drink made a fizzy hissing sound with all the built up carbonation inside as the lid dropped to the ground with several small clicks and rolled under a prop dresser, pastel red soda foam pouring over the lip of the bottle like a baking soda volcano. This was when Jake turned the plastic capsule completely upside down and let all the red fluid come down like a bloody waterfall with several 'glugs' in rapid succession.

And just like that, all the hope that Jeremy had was being flushed away right before his very eyes. Just a hunch, but it was possible that the very same thing was happening with Michael. To be truthful, it was pretty clear that both of their brains were in Panicking-And-Confused-Running-In-Circles-At-A-Complete-Loss-For-What-To-Do Mode with mental papers from mental filing cabinets flying everywhere.

Simply put, they were both screaming and somehow trying to pull themselves closer to the other.

Even more simply put, they were both screaming and being mildly flail-y.

Put the simplest, they were screwed.

"Yo!" Jake addressed Michael and Jeremy, dropping the plastic bottle where he stood. The two stopped screaming after it clattered to the ground, though not feeling any less scared. "Check it!" The teen standing shoved his crutches away from himself, on his feet as if his legs were covered from toe to thigh with bandages for no reason. Jeremy stared in awe and disgust. "It healed your legs?"

"No! But I can't feel pain! It's awesome!"

Right, that was a function of SQUIPs. Jeremy's own had numbed the pain of getting a needle stuck through his hand during the stitches he got forever ago at this point. He was thankful for it at the time. Now, he had mixed feelings because Jake's once - no, still - broken legs were the physical embodiment of 'WTF?!?!?' Jake, on the other hand, was beaming like he was the king of the goddamn world. He kept going he wobbled away, almost as if he'd just made up a song on the spot. "I'm livin' the upgrade, upgrade! God, I love me!"

"Oh great, as if he needed MORE confidence!" Jeremy complained offhandedly. He could see that the bottle still had a splash of soda and fizz still inside, getting a light feeling of hope. Suddenly realizing how close it had truly landed and rolled, Jeremy scrambled forward like a mindless creature scrounging for scraps. A shimmering silver character shoe stomped down in front of the plastic bottle a half an inch away from his fingers, making him recoil and look up in fright.

Brooke. With Chloe in tow.

"There you are, Jeremy." The girls purred. Chloe kicked the bottle even further away from the boy with the side of her black high-heeled boot, some scarlet droplets spattering about like a sprinkler along its journey rolling across the floor. The way she and Brooke carried themselves was much more reminiscent of the velociraptors from Jurassic Park than of teenage girls. And this time, it wasn't just because of their tendencies to squeal at things and not sound human.

They both pulled Jeremy to his feet, each one hugging onto an arm once he was standing. The girls looked more intimidating due to the added inches from their high-heels, even more so with Chloe since she was already a little taller than Jeremy. Brooke smiled up at him sweetly, resting her head on his shoulder. "I just want you to know, I'm not mad you broke my heart and slept with my best friend." Chloe twirled a finger around one of Jeremy's curls, wearing a smile that was on the border of seductive and I Watch You Sleep In Bed At Night. "And I'm not mad you dated my best friend and wouldn't sleep with me."

"Wait!" Brooke suddenly pushed Jeremy away, as if she couldn't care less about him one way or the other. "He didn't sleep with you?!" She asked incredulously. "No." Chloe answered with a roll of her eyes, as if it were common knowledge. The blonde gestured wildly to herself. "He didn't sleep with me!" This made the brunette gape in return. "No!"

"Oh my God! Why was I so jealous of you?!" They gasped at their unanimity, linking both their hands with that of the other. "You were jealous of me?!" For this, Jeremy was at a little bit of a loss. He was just captured a second ago. And now he's not. Huh. "Aww! That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me!" With the newfound diversion his captors were caught up in, Jeremy slowly stepped away from the girls and closer to Michael. Ya know, for... Safety reasons. "Sisters forever! Jiiiinx."

The girls giggled on, making Michael let out a half groan-half choking sound. Jeremy made a sound between his teeth. "I am sooo glad we're not girls..."

"Same."

Looking past Brooke and Chloe's family reunion so to speak, Jeremy's gaze caught hold of The Holy Grail as far as he was concerned. "Michael, the bottle!" He whispered, pointing. "There's still a few drops left!" Michael's face lit up with hope before dimming back down to dejection. "How am I supposed to get past them?" He asked, gesturing to the crowd ahead of them.

Various students were shuffling around the beaker of Mountain Dew that'd been drugged with SQUIPs, those drinking from it holding themselves higher than before they did so. They mindlessly chatted with their fellow cast members and play director, unaware of the plastic bottle lying in plain sight. But on and on they muttered to each other, in a way that was off-putting to say the best of it. They were acting almost as if they were possessed.

As if they were...

Zombies.

Cue lightbulb appearing over Jeremy's head.

"Apocalypse of the Damned! Level Nine!"

Cue lightbulb appearing over Michael's head.

"The Cafetorium!" They said together, much less of a mantra than what the girls did.

"Well, Player Two." Jeremy's heart jumped at the nickname as his attention snapped up to his friend, the slight blush warming his face not even coming to mind. Michael shrugged casually and extended an arm, elbow bent. "Press Start to join?" Jeremy figured it wouldn't be long until his face started to hurt from smiling so much. "Hell. Yes." He grinned, doing his obviously rehearsed handshake with Michael. The two could practically hear the music indicating the start of a new level.

 

**NEW GAME: CO-OP MODE**

 

If the two really were playing a video game, there would be health bars appearing above various cast members' heads, including Brooke, Chloe, Jake, and themselves of course. Both Player One and Player Two alike would be wracking up stealth combos that would put Solid Snake enthusiasts to shame. Then they themselves would be put to shame via the physical embodiment of the infamous red exclamation mark above someone's head.

That one senior that looks like a freshman would make a move to tackle Player Two, prompting a quick time event in a virtual world. Much the same thing would happen with Player One with that one freshman that looks like a senior, though with a lower degree of success. There was no way Player Two would leave his teammate behind though, not after being without him for so long. So he would go back and ensure that he wouldn't have to go through this effed up world in single-player mode. Not again.

In doing this, he would get cornered by the girls he was in an unintentional love triangle with. These two were a bit more feisty, knowing Player Two better than some lowly ensemble member that'd be onstage for all of a few minutes. He couldn't handle both of them at once, he'd only be able to push one of them aside at a time. By then, the other one would be coming up to repeat the cycle and so on. Player One was one step ahead though, pulling the taller of the two girls away while Player Two escaped the shorter blonde.

There were only a few more Zombies to squeeze through until they could reach the bottle. As long as the two remained on track and didn't stray off course, they could make it with little to no difficulty. If ever someone tried to give them a smack, they'd force their way through. Ultimately, it was Player One that made it to the bottle with his Player Two close behind. Of course they would both make it in the end, it can't be a two-player game with no second player. In a real video game, this would trigger an epic cinematic cutscene to reveal a new approaching enemy.

**Jenna Rolan: The Final Boss**

She had a powerful manic laugh that would put the greatest of villains to shame, that was for sure. "I know what you're doing, Michael." Jenna boomed. As though she were the fearsome ruler of the SQUIP Zombies, she summoned several students to her side "I know what everyone's doing! AAALL THE TIME!" With a flick of her wrist, she set her minions loose onto the pair before her. The Infected were deceptively agile and quick to make it to the duo. First three, then five, eight, thirteen, twenty-one, more and more almost as if they were multiplying.

"I just feel soooo connected to you guys right now!"

This was it, this was the end, there was no way out of this one. The Zombies were everywhere, closing in on the two. No matter where the boys turned, there were just SQUIPped high schoolers. Seniors, juniors, sophomores, even freshmen, no one was safe, especially not Michael or Jeremy. But the latter kept looking around for any chance of escape, defense, whatever. Any inkling of hope he could find, he would take.

There was an opening.

Before Jeremy knew it, he was shoved through the small gap and left staggering forward. It almost happened too fast for him to process, where he used to be, and where he ended up. He whirled around to find that he was on the opposite side of the Zombie circle, seeing the top of his Player One's head in the middle of the crowd. He was holding the plastic bottle high above his head, doing whatever he could to keep it out of the reach of the enemies. He was trapped, in trouble, there was no way out for him.

Holy shit, he'd sacrificed himself for Jeremy.

"Michael!"

"Jeremy!" A sophomore swung an arm up to grab the capsule, but only missed by a fraction of an inch because of the teen maneuvering it away. He could only hold them off for so long. "Catch!" In a matter of milliseconds, the plastic bottle was flying through the air as Michael threw it and disappeared into the SQUIP Zombie hoard descending upon him. Jeremy would've un-ironically dramatically cried out to him if his reflexes weren't being tested by the nearly-empty 90s soft drink bottle heading straight for him. He fumbled a little when catching it, in true klutzy fashion. Although somehow, miraculously, none of the red soda escaped.

By then, Michael was nowhere to be seen. Maybe the cast members surrounded him, maybe they were restraining him, maybe they were SQUIPping him, maybe Jeremy was looking straight at him and didn't know. Soon enough though, he would know. He would know if his SQUIP was making him see things - or not see things - and he could finally be rid of the worst mistake he'd ever made. He turned the bottle in his hands and viewed the epic logo in his grasp. This was it, he was going to be free of his shiny happy hive mind. Until he was physically held back by the very thing he was trying to get rid of.

Of course.

The manifestation of the SQUIP materialized around Jeremy, tearing his arms down and the bottle away from his face. "You DON'T wanna drink that, Jeremy!"

"Why not?!" The teen snapped back, more done with the SQUIP than he thought he ever could have been. At this stage, he wanted it gone more than he could've wanted anything else. "Give me one good reason!" Jeremy added on with a hard scowl. He'd counted all the ways the supercomputer wronged him, why he didn't trust it anymore, why he was convinced he was better off on his own. The SQUIP would need a damn, DAMN good argument to convince Jeremy it should stay.

It couldn't really touch him, but Jeremy could swear he felt the SQUIP's hand gripping onto his face as if it were a corporeal being. Its thumb was on one cheek while the rest of its fingers curled under his chin to the other. He swore he could feel it jerk his head to one side, forcing his attention to the opening between the first wing and main stage curtain.

"Because then you'll never be with her!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Taylor Swift thing mAY or may not be based on true events in my Comedy of Errors days.  
> Based on The Play animatics of atlasofgalaxies (whose video is on YT) and Jam Campasta (whose video is not on YT due to a copyright issue, but rather, right here https://vimeo.com/258891701 for your viewing pleasure)  
> Once again there may be things I'm forgetting that I add later. Also, don't hesitate to call me out on typos/misspellings. I've read over past chapters and cringed at myself for "THAT'S THE WRONG T(W)O(O)" Or "'THE would explain why you're talking to me'????? AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!"  
> Dumb typos like that take two years off my lifespan.  
> Please tell me if you catch them.  
> Edit: "How's this for a gesture" and “confangry” came from Gestures Matter by orphan_account


	20. The Play: Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You thought I was gonna do one of those The Play but it's Michael instead of Christine things, huh?  
> Well my friend.  
> You thought wrong. >:3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: IM WORKIN ON THIS TRASH ALL DAY EVERYDAY HECKERS  
> *my broken doorbell rings for the first time in years*  
> Me: *opens door*  
> Social life: hey girl heyyy  
> Me: ... Excuse me, I didn't ask for this, WHERE IS YOUR RETURN ADDRESS?!?!  
> Anyway, happy half birthday to me. And happy real birthday to my mom. Our birthdays are exactly 6 months apart. Heheh.

"Michael!"

It hurt to see Jeremy so scared, but the idea of him having his torturous SQUIP for a moment longer hurt more. "Jeremy!" A sophomore swung an arm up to grab the nearly empty bottle, but Michael pulled it away in the nick of time. He couldn't keep it up with the close calls forever though, and he wasn't even the one who needed to drink the soda. The one who really needed it was on the other side of the Zombie crowd.

It was crazy and risky, but Michael did it anyway. "Catch!" He threw the uncapped bottle over the hoard, praying to whatever-god that Jeremy had even the slightest amount of hand-eye coordination outside of working an Xbox controller. Visibly startled, he caught the plastic capsule, however sloppily. That was when Michael was seized from behind, someone hooking their arms under his. It was definitely Jake, he was the only one in the cast that was noticeably taller than him and strong enough to get his feet off the ground.

Before Michael could do so much as kick and scream, two underclassmen latched onto his legs like overgrown toddlers. Brooke and Chloe came from either side of him to claim an arm, much the same way they did with Jeremy but a few minutes ago. Jake clamped a hand down over Michael's mouth before he could protest against the Infected, completely unfazed by his flailing and thrashing. He instinctively licked the other teen's hand, but his grip didn't loosen in the slightest. Who doesn't remove their hand from someone's mouth when they get licked?! Michael made some muffled sounds against Jake's palm, trying desperately to tear his limbs away from those that held them captive. The Zombie crowd parted and swarmed Michael's sides to show-

Jeremy.

Jeremy with an expression of hope and fear and desperation all rolled into one, somehow struggling to get the plastic bottle lip up to his own. Michael couldn't feasibly see how he could be having so much trouble, but he knew his SQUIP likely had something to do with it. Because of course it did! It made Jeremy fight Michael, who knows what else it might've made him do! Who knows what it could force Jeremy to do against his will!

"You don't wanna drink that, Jeremy." The girls to Michael's left and right crooned into his ears, disgustingly sweet. Ugh, gross. Why to Michael though? What kind of twisted trick were they pulling? "Why not?!" Jeremy's head whipped around to nothing, giving the empty space the most furious look Michael had ever seen on his face. "Give me one good reason!" Wait, why wasn't he looking at the girls? They were the ones that said it. Or was he talking to his SQUIP? Were Brooke and Chloe relaying the voice back to Michael? Oh God. If that wasn't the creepiest thing that'd ever happened to him, he didn't know what was.

"Because then you'll never be with her." Jake chuckled, using the hand over Michael's mouth to move his head in the direction of the opening between the first wing and main stage curtains. Michael didn't even need to see 'her' to know who Jake - Jeremy's SQUIP? - was talking about. The short girl whirled around the corner, beaming like the sun. "Jeremy?" Eyes wide, Michael makeshift-whipped his head back over at the very same boy. No. No no nonononono! He can't, no! Don't let her be the deciding factor, don't let her convince him to throw away his freedom!

Jeremy looked like he had been drained from almost all the stress in the world. Just like he said it was like whenever he saw his crush. It was true. How could it not be? "C-Christine!" The actress appeared in front of him within seconds, her hands enveloping one of his. It felt like someone had just thrown a rock straight into Michael's chest to see Jeremy's hand in hers, he'd give everything in the world to be able to do the same. "Oh my gods, did you see me out there? The audience loved me!" Christine fawned, heartfelt and filled with emotion.

Having looked like he'd forgotten he was dying to drink the red splash of soda in his unenclosed hand, Jeremy stumbled over his words. "That's, amazing- Well, I mean, o-of course they did. Why- why wouldn't they?" Dammit, he gets stuttery and adorable around her! He's clearly flustered, he's talking to his crush after all. Shit, if that isn't the cutest thing on this entire stupid planet... Michael had no idea that Jeremy could look so endearing around the person he liked. Goddammit, he couldn't tear his best friend away from her, what kind of cruel person would he be then?

No. No, he was helping Jeremy! He was helping him get out of a horrible place! His SQUIP was using Christine against him! Michael tried once again to free himself from the iron grip of his peers, shaking his head around to possibly be able to call out to Jeremy. He tried talking around Jake's hand, tried interrupting Christine, tried saying something, anything! The girl was talking to Jeremy, but Michael couldn't hear the words. She spoke soft and sweet, a heavy contrast against his harsh and distressed mumbles.

He was hit with a pang of hurt when Jeremy's gaze didn't so much as flicker in his direction, it was just like when he'd been avoiding Michael (or maybe not really? See also: "I swear on my life, I never REALLY wanted to ignore you!") all those weeks ago. It was like he was looking through a double sided mirror, where Michael could see Jeremy but not vice versa. It was the SQUIP, his SQUIP was doing something to screw with everything! But all the tossing and twisting and muffled warnings in the world couldn't compete with Michael's captors, nor Jeremy's SQUIP.

Almost as if Michael had somehow tipped her train of thought off balance, Christine paused, looking down and giving a soft laugh. "Sorry, I just... I don't know how to say this." Jeremy gave the tiniest shrug Michael had ever seen, and even that was enough to make his heart melt. "Just... Say whatever's on your mind." The boy said quietly, holding the soda bottle against his chest. The girl smiled up at him, soft and sweet and lovable. Though her next statement would weigh on Michael's shoulders like a mountain.

 

"Lunch? Just the two of us?"

 

Jeremy's eyes widened, expression unreadable.

"...What?"

That godforsaken What Thing...

It was so quiet that Michael almost didn't hear it.

Part of him wished he hadn't.

Now was the point when he was truly panicking. Now was when he began flailing to break away again. Jeremy's crush had just asked him out to distract him from deactivating his SQUIP. Jeremy's crush asked him out. Jeremy's crush wanted to go out with him. Jeremy's crush returned the feelings. No. No, that couldn't be it! Jeremy's crush was distracting him! Jeremy's crush was screwing him over! Jeremy's crush-

"That is not Christine..."

Jeremy's crush was SQUIPped.

"I assure you, it is!" Brooke piped up cheerily from Michael's right, slowly sounding more menacing as her thought progressed. "Only her fears and insecurities have been removed."

Jeremy's crush was SQUIPped.

Jeremy was SQUIPped.

Everyone in the room minus Michael was SQUIPped.

All of the SQUIPs were in cahoots.

They were linked somehow, it made perfect sense! That's how Jake and the girls could keep Michael in the loop with what the voice in Jeremy's head was saying. And if the physical fight between the boys was any indicator, that voice was working against Jeremy, fighting him in fact! It was using Christine as an incentive to convince him to keep his SQUIP active!

That, or Michael was being dramatic.

But could you blame him? Just try and say that your brain wouldn't run as rampant as Michael's when your best friend of twelve years and love interest of four (at LEAST) took a four-hundred dollar pill that implanted a computer in his head and made him avoid you for two months, leading to two weeks of you simply moving from your bedroom to the bathroom to 7-Eleven until finally getting off your ass to save your drugged friend, only to have to fight your way through your (also) drugged peers to the discontinued soda from the 90s that could silence the voices that were a byproduct of the pills they took. If you've suspended your disbelief THAT much, then all of the voices being able to communicate with one another shouldn't be THAT much harder to believe.

Once more, Michael wasn't paying attention to the words coming out of Christine's mouth, only acknowledging that was where their journey was taking them. That, and how the words could convince Jeremy to keep his SQUIP active (or at the very least, make him forget he wanted to rid himself of it in the first place). That, and how he had to free himself from the fellow juniors at his arms and back, and the underclassmen clinging to his legs like sloths. That, and how he had to get Jeremy's attention to somehow warn him and remind him to deactivate his SQUIP.

That, and how much more anxious and panicked he was growing as each thrashing movement found no purchase. That, and how speaking was next to useless, aside from tearing all the breath from his lungs. That, and how he was making his own assumptions as to what Christine could be saying to Jeremy. That, and how those things could possibly be a great incentive for him to stay SQUIPped.

That, and what kind of an incentive Jeremy would likely take.

Despite being informed (very creepily) that her fears and insecurities had been removed, Christine seemed a bit shy in her doings and sayings as she kept her eyes close to the ground. "I really like you, Jeremy."

Oh God... Saying that can only go in one specific direction.

"More than most people."

Shit, and it was very much going there!

"Gods, dare I even say..."

Oh no. Please, no! Not the L word, please, PLEASE don't say the L word!

"I love you."

 

Ouch, there it was...

 

And she didn't say 'like like'...

She didn't even say like like! If she had said like like, it wouldn't have hurt nearly as bad! It wouldn't have been nearly as serious! But no, she said love, dammit, LOVE! That word is basically taboo when talking about teenage relationships that last three weeks before crashing and burning! If you don't end up marrying them, it goes nothing past Like Like. Sure, Like Like may be middle school terminology, but dammit, high schoolers still use it! They were the middle schoolers that came up with it!

Jesus, Love was so much more than Like Like, it went on a much deeper level! Like Like is focusing on all the attractive parts of a person. Love is recognizing the imperfections and seeing them as perfections. Like Like is holding the car door open for someone. Love is lurching the car forward half a foot so they can't get the door open. Like Like is nothing but pet names and heart eyes and fluffy stuff. Love is being able to insult someone and have them laugh and do the same to you without either party getting offended.

Like Like is fake! Love is real.

How had Christine and Jeremy gotten to 'love' so quickly?

How did she recognize it so quickly?

It took Michael until seventh grade to officially tell himself he loved Jeremy.

Yeah, Michael loved Jeremy, but what else is new?

Apparently... That Christine loved Jeremy as well.

"That's your cue, Slugger." Chloe almost sang, egging the boy on from across the way. Jeremy looked from his and Christine's joined hands to the girl's face and back again. "She'll do whatever I want..." He murmured, almost too quiet for Michael to hear. Christine gave a chaste, yet eager nod. "That's what I promised." The sound came from all directions, the entire rest of the Midsummer's cast had said it like a monotone choir.

Gaze flitting from the girl's face to the plastic bottle, the boy soon let out a quiet, breathy sigh. He lent a soft smile, relieved, in some dreadfully disheartening way. "Great." Jeremy breathed, looking so light that he could start floating up to the catwalk. Michael's vision began to blur, a helpless sound getting caught in his throat. No... He was too late.

Jeremy carefully brought his free hand up to the girl's face, fingertips barely grazing her cheek as if she were a fragile porcelain doll. Christine leaned into the touch so the boy was cupping her face, looking up at him with gooey heart eyes.

As a last ditch effort, a knee-jerk reaction, Michael yelled out from behind Jake's duct tape-like grasp.

'Please, stop, NO! She's not really Christine, she's SQUIPped, hers could be using her like a puppet! You don't know if she really likes you! It's a scam, a lie, a ruse! You said it yourself, it's not really her. It's her SQUIP talking! Don't listen to her, God, please! She's tricking you! She's trying to get you to stay! She's trying to ruin your life! She's-!

...

Perfect for you...'

He didn't really say the last part.

And who was he kidding, she really was perfect for him. Christine was sweet, cute, caring, and loved Jeremy. Jeremy was totally geeky, undeniably adorkable, kind to a fault, and loved Christine. They went together like Romeo and Juliet. Jack and Rose. Jack and Sally. Peanut butter and jelly. Chocolate and marshmallow. Popcorn and movies. French fries and shakes. Andy Dwyer and April Ludgate. Cortana and Master Chief. Mr. and Mrs. Pac-Man...

 

Ramona Flowers and Scott Pilgrim.

 

Atlas and P-body.

 

Mario and Peach.

 

Blood and claws...

 

Weed and games...

 

Pizza and Pepsi...

 

Beanbags and fleece blankets...

 

Late nights and sex jokes...

 

Sleepovers and sarcasm...

 

Freezing cold basements and warm purring cats...

 

Slushees and car ride sing-alongs...

 

Player One and Player Two...

 

Jeremy had begun to lean down closer to Christine. Christine was leaning up on her tiptoes to help bridge the gap. Doesn't take a genius to know how that story's about to end... Michael hopelessly screwed his eyes shut and let his chin drop to his chest, unable to watch the sight before him. He was that close. That close to success. That close to the end of the level. That close to moving up in the world. That close to deactivating Jeremy's SQUIP. That close to saving Jeremy. That close to winning his best friend back. That close to making life a two-player game again.

That close.

 

That.

 

Close.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Drink this."

The whisper bounced around inside an almost-empty plastic bottle, loud and clear. Michael's tears vanished and his head snapped up, eyes jumping around to try and find Jeremy.

It wasn't him that he found drinking the final drops within the all-important container.

It was Christine.

Jeremy gave Christine the soda.

He shut down her SQUIP.

And then Michael's brain went a mile a minute.

Jeremy gave Christine the soda. He shut down her SQUIP. He threw away his freedom. He threw away his freedom for Christine's. He threw away his freedom so that the girl of his dreams could have it. He sacrificed himself for her. He really does love her. He put Christine's freedom above his friendship with Michael. He put the girl he'd known for two months above the friend he'd had for over seventy-two times longer. She blinked and gave a blank stare. He timidly asked her how she felt. She dropped her head forward unexpectedly. He startled and made a face at her. He asked her if that was her answer.

Then the bottle clattered to the ground and Christine began to scream.

Not a short 'aah! What was that?' scream, a long scream. She was still screaming! She wasn't messin' around!

And then Brooke and Chloe unlatched themselves from Michael and joined Christine's scream-session, clutching their heads and getting their hair threaded through their fingers.

Ok. So they were also screaming, but was that just because Christine was? Girls do that sometimes, right?

Michael didn't realize how much of his weight Jake was supporting until the crippled teen released his grip on him, making him fall alongside the Underclassmen At His Feet™. Then Jake started screaming too! Though not the typical everyday girl scream that was more common than necessary, he was screaming in pain. Pain from WHAT though? He didn't drink the red soda, Christine did! Her screaming out of pain made more sense than Jake doing it, or Chloe or Brooke.

Terrified and confused out of his mind, Michael began screaming as well.

After him, Jenna.

Then the seniors.

The rest of the juniors.

Sophomores...

Freshmen...

And then one more scream that was so distinctly Jeremy, which he didn't quite process fully, but still made Michael scream more anyway. There was so much screaming and so many people doing it that it was almost too much for him to handle. He sought out a possible escape via flipping up his hood and pulling the drawstrings. Was he hiding? Was he trying to muffle the sound? Was he trying to chill himself out? No one could really say. But there he was, and there the Midsummer's cast was, screaming like Armageddon had just descended on them with fiery explosions of death and destruction with nowhere to hide.

A huge, collective, echoey T H U D resonated throughout the entire backstage.

Silence rang out like a gunshot.

And then Michael realized he was the only one screaming.

And then Michael realized that that T H U D was the result of thirty-something bodies hitting the floor.

Including Jeremy's.

 

Oh...

 

Oh God...

 

"Jeremy!"

Un-cocooning himself from his hood, Michael stumbled over the Underclassmen At His Feet™ and over to the other boy, passing Christine along the way. And passing the now-empty plastic bottle that once held red Mountain Dew inside. The force at which he slid to his knees by Jeremy's side was sure to leave some bruises or burn marks there. Burn marks, that made sense, right? Like carpet burn or trampoline burn, but on the hard plasticky floor of the high school stage?

Whatever injury it would become, it wasn't enough to stop him from being engulfed in overwhelming worry for Jeremy. Along with all the other students that'd been SQUIPped, he had just screamed bloody murder at some unseen excruciating pain and fallen to the floor. Really, how in God's name do you expect Michael to NOT be freaking out?

Seeing the boy lying unmoving on the ground was off-putting in almost every way, he didn't quite look asleep. If Michael was being brutally and horrifically honest, he didn't quite look alive either. Jeremy somehow looked even paler than he already was, his thin physic playing even more with the corpse effect.

Corpse.

Michael hastily pulled his friend onto his lap, muttering distraught 'no's and 'shit's to himself as he unnervingly struggled to get the limp, cold body over his thighs. Limp. Cold.

Limp.

Cold.

Blame it on his panicked state or the fact that he barely passed his ninth grade health class with a D+, but Michael didn't think to look for the right spot on Jeremy's neck or wrist to find a pulse, bringing his head against the collapsed teen's chest. He tried to keep calm long enough to listen for a sound. ANY sound. Please, please, please, make a sound. Shit, PLEASE. It should NOT have been this hard to listen for a sound, but the audience that'd once been watching the play began muttering too loudly for Michael to focus on listening for a sign of life.

God... If psychologists say that it takes a crush four months to develop into love, then four years was definitely long enough for him to decide that he couldn't live without Jeremy. Again, four years was his low estimate, the true extent could've stretched as far as the full twelve years.

 

Thmp thmp...

 

His heart was still beating.

 

Michael shakily let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Thank.

God.

"Don't scare me like that, Jeremy..." He half rasped-half laughed, bringing his head away to properly look at the boy in his arms. Michael took a moment to appreciate the partial rhyme he made, turning it into a pun. "Scare, me, Jeremy. Scaremy, heheh..." It began as a chuckle, but it turned into more of a hiccup as his waterline began to flood. Damn, he was really crying now. "You would've liked that one..."

Michael wasn't a crier, he'd been told that most of his life. He didn't cry in frustration, he didn't cry in sorrow, didn't cry of laughter, at the beginning of Up, during movies in general, at the end of any of the tug-at-your-heart-strings games he'd played, he just... Didn't.

But Halloween was the exception.

The Day of the Dead was the exception.

The Play was the exception.

Jeremy was the exception.

Because of course he was, he was always the exception.

In fact, how many times had he cried between the beginning of the school year and now? Three? Seven? Twenty? Well, here's your answer: too many. Too many times Michael has cried and for what reason?

Jeremy.

Because of course it's Jeremy. It's always been Jeremy and nobody else. Jeremy playing Legos in second grade, Jeremy playing the original Apocalypse of the Damned all through elementary and middle school, Jeremy sitting with him at lunch, Jeremy sneaking off with him to go to 7-Eleven, Jeremy getting stoned with him, Jeremy talking with him about queer representation (and lack thereof) in media, Jeremy by his side, Jeremy laughing with him, singing with him, pestering the cat with him, keeping him sane.

It was always Jeremy and nobody else.

And if Michael didn't have Jeremy, who was he?

Nobody.

It was always Jeremy and Nobody else.

A set of wedges clunked against the stage floor, echoing over the sound of the confused students and parents housed in the auditorium. It wasn't until the sound abruptly stopped that Michael looked up to see the source of the loud shoes. There, the school's principle stood, wide brown eyes sweeping over the teenage battlefield's many casualties.

The woman, Ms. Hart, didn't accuse Michael of being at fault when she recognized his presence. No, one thing he knew about the principle was that she was a firm believer in hearing all sides of a story when conflict arose. She wouldn't see the damage and make any assumptions (unlike some other staff at the school), it was one of the things Michael liked about her.

In a few strides, Ms. Hart was in front of the boy. Her tight black curls bounced as she sank down to his level, gently placing a dark chocolate-colored hand on his shoulder. She kept her voice level, but the concern was painted very clearly across her face. "What happened here?"

'Everybody passed out for no reason. Including Heere, so I dunno why you asked him.'

'Our friends partied a little too hardy, haha.'

'It wasn't me.'

'Stage fright?'

'I'm freaking out, please help me find my sanity! I don't know where it went!'

'It be ghosts.'

'It be SQUIPs.'

'An evil computer possessed the guy I'm gay for and then the rest of the cast. But it's ok, Christine over there drank some discontinued soda and then everyone screamed bloody murder and passed the hell out.'

'Help me please, I don't want Jeremy to die!'

'Heheh, Heere.'

Michael didn't say any of those things. For just a moment, he didn't say anything at all. Because what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to explain to the principle that every single one of the bodies around him lost consciousness because a girl drank some red Mountain Dew?

Take it from Ms. Hart's perspective: some students were onstage performing their parts. They were simply carrying forward the Shakespearean story with an apocalyptic twist, nothing too out of the ordinary. Then out of nowhere, the kids (including those offstage) screamed out in pain for an undetermined amount of time and collapsed with no warning or explanation. In order to ensure the safety of any other students, she went backstage to see what the situation looked like. Instead of being met with panicking stage tech seniors, she saw all of the other students lying motionless on the ground. In one little corner, a crying gay junior kid with a red hoodie was kneeling there with another junior laid across his lap, also motionless.

In all honesty, Michael looked pretty pathetic, he himself would admit that. Here he was, pathetically holding his cold, limp best friend close to him. Holding the boy he had a pathetic crush on like he was on his deathbed. Pathetically crying because he didn't have any idea what would happen to him or if he was going to be ok. Looking up at the worry-struck principle with pathetic tears blurring his vision. He didn't even answer the woman's question, giving only a pathetic sniffle and a pathetic request.

"C... Call 911..."

Pathetic.

Now understanding (if only slightly) the weight of the situation, Ms. Hart nodded solemnly. She stood and headed for the door that connected to the stage right hallway, pulling out her phone and slipping outside in one swift motion. Michael supposed she'd dismiss the audience after the call, as well as getting the full story out of him at a later time. All the principle needed to know was that everyone passed out and likely needed medical attention. Explaining anything else would just be too confusing and it would get muddy pretty quickly.

Not wanting to think about SQUIPs too much, Michael decided to think about Jeremy instead. Honestly, that was the only thing he really cared about at the moment anyway. Bittersweet that he's with his best friend again, who is passed out and limp and pale and small and cold. Despite that, Michael felt a smile gently tug at the corners of his mouth. "You don't have nearly as many freckles as you used to..." He chuckled weakly.

It was true, First Grade Jeremy had approximately a bazillion, Seventh Grade Jeremy had twenty-six, and Eleventh Grade Jeremy only had twelve; four on each cheek and four spread across his nose. They had begun to fade around the time he and Michael were freshman. Back then, you could really only tell he had freckles if you were actively looking for them, otherwise they might as well not be there. Jeremy having freckles was more of a known thing, they were never brought up cuz there wasn't much reason to.

Now though, it was one of the few things that Michael could focus on. Seeing the light brown speckles made the boy seem younger, smaller. Jeremy was already younger than him, but not by much. He was already smaller than Michael, slim-built generally, but also one of the shorter juniors. Jeremy already had fair skin, but it looked even more so now. He already didn't produce much body heat, but felt more frigid now than ever before.

And even though Michael liked to think he knew better, all those things just screamed out to him that Jeremy wouldn't make it. That was irrational, he knew the boy's heart was still beating. Even still, he had to keep saying out loud that everything was hunky freaking dory. "It's ok, buddy, you're gonna be fine..." The line had begun to blur between Michael telling Jeremy he'd be ok and Michael telling himself that Jeremy would be ok. He honestly couldn't tell which he was doing anymore.

He didn't know how long he had knelt there holding the boy. It could've been five minutes, an hour, two, long enough for him to worry how long someone was normally unconscious for when they passed out. He could do a quick Google search, but he doubted that the web would have any details on whether or not that person was digitally linked to thirty-something other people and one of them cut off that link and everyone just 'nope'd.

God, when did Michael's life become some weird one-sided sci-fi love story?

The audience had since been informed of what had happened, kinda, sorta, not really. Ms. Hart came back and dismissed them all to the front parking lot of the school. See, she was smart. She knew that if she told those friends and families of actors that the person or people they were there for was unconscious for unknown reasons, they would flip their shit. So she didn't tell them that. Of course Ms. Hart had gone outside with the crowd, so Michael didn't know what was going on with them now. Maybe she was breaking the news to them out front, who knows.

The auditorium was now deafeningly silent, leaving Michael to whisper sweet, reassuring nothings to Jeremy in the closest thing to peace he could get. He supposed that gently rocking the motionless body was more to help himself calm down than to help his friend, what with him not being awake and all. Either way, it reminded Michael of all the other times he'd held Jeremy close to soothe him. Especially with the boy's head held up against his chest, fine hair tickling at his neck and chin with the scent of that citrus shampoo that he can never remember the name of.

For a moment, Michael was able to pretend that everything was ok. Pretend that there was nobody else sprawled out on the floor around them. Pretend that the dead-quiet auditorium was his chilly basement. Pretend that the soundless void was being flooded with the sweet tunes of Bob Marley. Pretend that Jeremy had simply fallen asleep in his arms. Pretend that he had settled onto his lap because he was high and his filter had gone away.

Pretend that there never was any SQUIP.

All that pretending didn't last long before his daydream was broken by an eruption of jumbled together voices and thundering footsteps. And Michael was reminded that nothing really was ok. There were other people sprawled out on the floor around them. They weren't in Michael's basement. There was no Bob Marley. Jeremy hadn't fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn't crawled into his lap for a emotionally painful yet heartwarming Stoned Snuggle Session™.

There had been a SQUIP.

Michael wanted to hold onto that daydream for as long as he could though, so he shut his eyes and surrounded himself in Jeremy. He put his head down and stopped caring if he spilt tears on his friend's face. He breathed in the sweet citrus smell and tried to remember what the name of that godforsaken shampoo was. He imagined a high and hopelessly giggly Jeremy reassuring him that every little thing was gonna be alright as that very song played in the background.

He tried so hard to hear that and not the paramedics talking to the principle.

A voice Michael didn't recognize. "My God, how many are there?"

Ms. Hart's smooth, level tone. "No more than forty."

An impressed whistle from a second unknown voice. "Pediatrics is gonna fill up in no time."

A third voice that reminded him vaguely of some YouTuber. "Does the kid with the red jacket and headphones know anything?"

Ms. Hart again. "My guess is yes, but he seems a bit shaken right now. I would suggest asking only small, absolutely necessary questions and we can get the full story later."

Some vague mumbling that Michael didn't quite catch but didn't care to evaluate, followed by the sound of people walking about. One of those sounds seemed to be approaching him, but he hoped he was wrong about that theory.

"Excuse me, sir."

He was not.

He brought his gaze up just enough to see the person's face, not finding their appearance very remarkable or memorable. Other people were doing stuff behind them in the background, but he didn't fancy paying much attention to their antics.

"Are you alright?" The paramedic asked.

It may not have been the greatest time, but Michael couldn't help but be a little sarcastic. "Emotionally, no. Physically?" Some slightly strained, slightly exasperated sound. "Maybe a little bruised, but I'll live." He struggled to get the words out, remembering how Jeremy had been in a pretty intense fist fight (right? Basically?) with him... Well, however long ago it was.

The paramedic gave an acknowledging nod. "Who've you got here?" They asked, gesturing to the boy in Michael's arms.

He sniffled, an aching that had been there for several minutes beginning to grow larger in his chest. "J-Jeremiah Heere. His last name really is Heere, with two e's in the middle and o-one at the end." He didn't know if that was vital information, but it'd make sense if it was. Something something, medical records, ya know?

Quietly spelling the pun-worthy last name to themself, they prepared to ask their next, possibly last vital question. "Is he or anyone else injured?"

"Um." Michael waved a hand toward the popular juniors and average underclassmen that had once held him captive. "Jake's legs were already broken." He swallowed back a sob. "Other than that, no? Or at least I don't think so?" Could one or more of the students have gotten a concussion from the fall? Michael figured it was possible, but probably not likely.

The paramedic nodded, some reassuring nothing that the boy had already told himself coming out of their mouth. They looked over their shoulder to say something to one of the other paramedics, but Michael wasn't paying attention to what it was. His mind was processing that Jeremy would be getting help soon more than he was processing what the consequences of 'help' were.

If he had been processing the concept of stretchers and ambulances and other such things, he would've processed the concept of Jeremy being taken from him better.

But he wasn't processing those things.

So he was more than a little freaked out when the other two paramedics came up to take Jeremy and transfer him elsewhere.

"Get them to Beth Israel." The person that'd been talking to Michael instructed one of their coworkers. And just like that, the vaguely YouTuber-sounding paramedic was wheeling the unconscious boy away on a stretcher. Michael was on his feet so fast that he got a bit lightheaded, but hell if he cared.

'Excuse me, what?! Oh HELL no! I just got my best friend back and you expect me to just leave him alone with you people?! I get that you're doing your job and all, but I'm not letting Jeremy go again! Nuh-uh, not after a million sleepless nights and existential crises! Mkay? Just try to take him from me, bitch.'

That's not what Michael said.

What he actually said... well, 'said' was a pretty loose term. He screamed, more accurately. "NO!!" That's what tore itself from Michael's throat. "PLEASE! He's all I've got! Let me come with!" Arms blocked him off from Jeremy and he struggled against them, only finding slightly more success than when it was his SQUIPped peers holding him back. That's not to say it was easy getting through the human barricades, but relative to the strength of the three hottest juniors that trapped him, it wasn't quite as difficult.

If he'd been paying attention to his surroundings, he'd have known that several other people had come through to take the other students away. Jeremy may not have been the last one that they picked up, but he was definitely one of the later ones.

The paramedics holding him back were saying things to him, probably generic 'calm down's and 'it's going to alright's and 'we understand your concern's, but again, Michael wasn't paying attention to them. How could he when his best friend had just been taken from him? Not just that, but when his best friend had passed out after screaming like he was being murdered! And THEN taken from him. Just TRY and say that Michael was overreacting! Sure, he might've been, but dammit, can you blame him?

He didn't remember breaking out of the paramedics' grasp. He didn't remember running down the hall the person wheeling off Jeremy went down. He didn't remember almost knocking over two sophomores, a parent and a senior. He didn't remember what time the clock read when he glanced at it, only recognizing it as 'late'. He didn't remember when he burst through the school doors, shouting Jeremy's name into the darkness like the boy could shout back and wave his arms to let Michael know where he was.

Although Michael did wonder, upon realizing he was outside in front of the school:

Why and how did they get a news team?!

Was that really necessary?

Did this whole SQUIP incident HAVE to be broadcasted on live television?

SQUIP incident.

SQUIP-cident.

Stupid puns.

He must've had some sort of selective vision at first to have only noticed the reporter and news van, but the rest of the scene caught up to him pretty quickly. Michael lost count almost immediately, but several of the students he saw inside backstage lay idle in gurneys being slid into ambulances. Each body had their right arm hanging off the side of their stretcher, deliberate, calculated.

SQUIPped.

Or maybe it meant something else, he didn't know. Again, he was probably being dramatic.

And again, could you blame him?

More than anything, he didn't know what to do with himself. Try as he might to convince himself not to, Michael found himself calling out Jeremy's name in hopes that his friend would hear it over the rest of the commotion on the sidewalk and in the parking lot. You know, assuming Jeremy had even woken up in the last three or so minutes. Which he probably hadn't. But hell if that would stop him from hoping.

He continued sweeping through families and interviews and street lamps in anguish because how the hell could that paramedic have gotten away so fast?! The place was crowded as shit especially considering the unnecessary cameras, so just how?! Michael was about to go through another fit of cursing on the curb in front of children while nearly choking on tears when he stopped himself seconds before he could run into a (thankfully) familiar redhead.

Who he often referred to as Slushee Girl was there in front of him, like a wall that'd been standing there for generations; unmoving from shock. Her freckled face demonstrated as much, with her mouth hung open in fright and a worried crease between her eyebrows. Her blue-green eyes pleaded an explanation from him, some answer to her silent and horrified 'Wtf is going on?'

The boy gave a weak wave. "Heh-hey, Cari..." He tried to keep it cool, calm his harsh, raspy-from-sobbing voice, but he knew on some level that Caroline would see right through the facade. "You uh, haha... Ya see the news?"

She nodded, street lamp-lit expression unchanged. A fiery red curl slipped out of her loose ponytail in the movement, curling around her jaw. Her hair was barely long enough to tie back and often escaped her pale pink scrunchie. Caroline was still in her convenience store attire, proven to have just arrived from the 7-Eleven. It wasn't far from the school, practically right next to it in fact, but she had still found the need to leave work in favor of Michael's high school.

In favor of Michael.

Her silent 'Wtf is going on?' may also have been referring to why in God's name there were ambulances everywhere. So as briefly as he could, Michael began to explain, gesturing helplessly to the building to his left. "He- he gave the Red Dew to Christine. And then she started screaming, a-and everyone else started screaming and HE started screaming and th-they all just passed out-"

Apparently watching something behind him, the girl stopped him mid-sentence. "Tell me later. Remember which ambulance he's in." The boy had never met the serious, determined side of Caroline before today, so he could tell she meant business. He glanced over his shoulder briefly to see that holy shit, there Jeremy was, being shut into the back of the emergency vehicle alongside Christine. "Uh- sure, ok."

"You know where they're taking him?"

"B-Beth Israel?"

"You know where that is and how to get there?"

"No...?"

She stuck out her palm. "Gimme your keys."

Michael fished his keys out of his hoodie pocket and dropped them into her open hand. "Ok, but, why?" He was only halfway through his question when the girl spun around and stepped off the curb into the parking lot. "What are we doing?" The boy asked as the next ambulances in line started on their way toward the main road.

"Following them. Which one is yours?"

"The ugly one."

Caroline made a beeline for Michael's PT Cruiser, clicking a button to unlock the doors. This would be A.) The first time anyone other than Michael was in the driver's seat (excluding when his biological parents gave the car to him), and B.) The first time Michael was in the passenger seat. And additionally C.) The first time anyone other than Jeremy was even in the car (excluding when Michael's biological parents gave it to him).

And yeah, Serious Caroline was new to him, so he wasn't going to try his luck with protests when it was very clear that she had a plan and she was sticking to it. Although for some reason, his brain translated that to 'keep your goddamn mouth shut', so Michael was completely silent for the first couple minutes of the drive (including simply getting out of the parking lot). He thought about putting on some music, but decided against it because of the overall serious atmosphere.

The silence was almost unbearable. Because silence typically meant that Michael would be left alone with just his thoughts. And since his best friend was put in an AMBULANCE on his way to a HOSPITAL, he didn't want to be left alone with just his thoughts. Because just his thoughts hated him and wanted him to assume the absolute worst case scenario.

But finally, FINALLY, thank the heavens, Caroline broke the silence. Maybe it was an extremely 'no funny business' tone that wasn't accompanied with any gentler reassuring eye contact, but it was better than silence and gruesome thoughts. "It's not everyday that breaking news from a high school play flashes up on the TV at work, so spill." She said plainly.

So Michael told her everything.

Like... Everything everything.

He started right after Caroline had last texted him and intended to end right before he first saw her on the curb. He told her how Jeremy's father came to his front porch to give his When-You-Love-Somebody-You-Put-Your-Pants-On-For-Them TedTalk. He also told her about Jeremy pleading for help in Jenna's livestream. Admittedly, he may have been over-sharing, but she was used to it by now. So she sat and listened, letting Michael know she understood with a hum or nod as she drove on.

"And just-! Holy shit, I don't think I've seen him smile brighter! And you know that eye twinkle I wouldn't shut up about last week?"

"Pretty sure you called it a sparkle, but he had the-"

"HE HAD! The twinkle! And oh my God, I just realized that's a pun cuz he's like, the definition of a twink? Twink, twinkle? Anyway." Michael had taken a liking to hitting the dashboard with the heel of his hand for emphasis on certain parts of his story. "He just looked." Thump. "And sounded." Thump. "So." Thump. "Happy, I cannot stress that enough! We made eye contact and his voice went up like seventy octaves when he said my name! It was like, the cutest shit ever! I'm just-" He made a sound that was the verbal equivalent of a keyboard smash.

"Yes! I get it! He was pumped to see you!"

"NO, CAROLINE, YOU DON'T GET IT! HE DEAD." THUNK. "ASS." THUNK. "SQUEALED!" THUNK.

"For realsies??"

"For realsies!"

"Geez, how the hell is he so cute?"

"Magic." Michael deadpanned, having come to this conclusion at least two years ago. "Lots. And lots. Of magic!" He began to tell her about the fight and Jeremy's 'you think you're above everyone' rant. He told her how he spilled to Jeremy that he was jealous that his friend actually tries to be popular, also touching on the fact that Jeremy shot it down with 'WELL I'M JEALOUS YOU DON'T!' He also told her how immediately after that, Jeremy said that his SQUIP had control over his body while on the edge of tears as he practically screamed an apology.

"So obviously, I was confused as to how much of Halloween Jeremy was really Jeremy and how much was his stupid brain parasite. Oh but lemme tell ya, Cari! If I didn't hate Jeremy's SQUIP before then, that was what made me resent it!"

"I'd be pissed too if something was using my best friend as a meat puppet!"

"I was thinking video game character, BUT STILL!"

"Still!"

"Now that I'm thinking about it, the fact that he was about ready to cry when he apologized is just heart-shattering! Oh my God, he didn't wanna shut me out, Cari, the goddamn calculator MADE HIM! It was the optic nerve bullshit, wasn't it? Shit, man, this whole time I've been salty with him and it probably wasn't even his fault!"

"Michael, I would totally hug all the air out of you if I wasn't driving right now."

Michael scrubbed his hands over his face in disappointment of himself. "Guuuuh, I'm the worst!"

"Dude, no you're not." Caroline snapped as she ran a glowing red light to follow the blaring ambulance's left turn. (It might've been Jeremy's, it might not have been, they had no way of knowing.) "You didn't have any way of knowing it was against his wishes to avoid you until now. Don't beat yourself up about it, ok?" She added the last part a little softer, even though she couldn't look her passenger in the eye while saying it. "You said back in the parking lot that he gave the Red Dew to that Christine girl, right?"

Michael tried to hold back a lovesick whine. (He failed.) "Yes." He drawled. "And it was very noble and heroic and shit. But then he and everyone else just went like-" Thump. "-'bruh' and passed out! So-! I dunno, maybe just Christine drinking it made the rest of the SQUIPs shut down?"

"The rest?"

"The entire play cast got drugged! Why do you think so many people were unconscious?"

"Hm." Caroline hummed, nodding. "You right, you right." She said as she pulled into a parking space. Michael hadn't noticed that they'd arrived. But then again, he hadn't been paying much attention to where they were.

But then again, could you blame him?

Caroline pulled the keys out of the ignition and held them up to Michael. "Here. Take." She deadpanned, dropping the keys into his lap. He fumbled at grabbing them and stowing them back into his pocket as he and the girl got out of the PT Cruiser. Damn, he didn't even get to the part where he asked Jeremy to 'Press Start to join' and it was very cheesy and dumb and Jeremy looked BEYOND happy to 'Play' along. (Like playing video games and also the school play, right? Damn puns.) Two-player game and all that jazz.

And Michael wasn't comprehending it at first, but he and Caroline had just followed an ambulance to the hospital and probably broke multiple driving laws because Jeremy fell unconscious and now they were speed-walking to the entrance and Michael's brain was both blanking and shooting thoughts every which way at the same time and crap what's gonna happen what's the plan why are we going in this without a plan???

"If anyone asks, you're my step-brother and we're here to see Madeline."

It is both comforting and disturbing that Caroline has the ability to read Michael's mind.

Although he didn't see why they would have to lie. "Can't we just say we're friends and we're here to see Jeremy?" Michael asked dumbly. The college student answered a little too casually. "Nah, they won't let you in unless you're immediate family."

"What?!" The boy practically squeaked.

"I know! It's stupid! There was an incident with Harmony one time and - I mean it was in like 2010 so I don't know if the rules of changed since then, but better safe than sorry - but they wouldn't let me see her even though her family couldn't have possibly-" The slushee girl waved a hand dismissively. "Rant for another day." She concluded, opening the door and walking toward the front desk with Michael in tow.

The fluorescently-lit room was lined with uncomfortable-looking chairs. You know, the ones that were cushioned to give the illusion of comfort but you could still tell it wasn't a good chair to sit in. Most of them were filled, given the lack of other places to sit. (You know, besides the floor.) How many of the people were parents and family members and friends that came from Middle Borough? How many people were already there? It was impossible to tell.

The lady behind the front desk seemed to be in her late thirties or early forties, platinum-blonde hair pulled back in a bun that she'd probably slept in the night before. "Names?" She asked the pair, bored.

"Caroline and my step-brother, Michael. We're here for my sister Madeline." The girl delivered the lie better than Michael could have under pressure. It already took a lot of effort not to blurt out some worried comment about Jeremy. The lady typed some things into the computer on her clunky keyboard, raising an eyebrow at something on the screen. "Madeline Johnson?" She asked skeptically.

Caroline rolled her eyes in mild exasperation, apparently having done this song and dance before. "Yes, I know, we look nothing alike." Michael supposed that if you were a redhead with blue-green eyes and fair skin peppered in freckles with a sister that had jet black hair, chocolate brown eyes and a tan the color of cardboard, people would have a hard time believing that you two were related.

"Room 204." The lady behind the desk drawled. Caroline let out some mindless thanks before ushering Michael to follow her.

If he were more stable emotionally and mentally - and if his brain were properly functioning - he would've wondered how the woman had found Madeline's room so easily and how she even knew that it was Madeline. He would've wondered how long she and the other students before her had been checked in and a million other things. But since Michael WASN'T emotionally and mentally stable and his brain WASN'T functioning properly, he didn't care enough to question the desk lady or Caroline.

Because his brain wasn't functioning properly, he was constantly teetering on the border of his thoughts being consumed by all the bad things that could be happening to Jeremy, and all his thoughts hurling themselves out the window. Michael always tried to be a go-with-the-flow kind of person, which he was good at for the most part. He was trying to do a bit of that now, but he supposed he was more letting The Flow drag him along by a leash than he was going along with it.

Really, he didn't know what was going on anymore. Was he terrified for Jeremy's life? Abso-hecking-lutely. Jeremy was one of, if not the only thing truly on his mind. Did he know what to do about being terrified for Jeremy's life? Hell no. Michael only knew that he wanted Jeremy to be ok and not SQUIPped and dammit he just wanted his Player Two back! Was Michael going to let Caroline lead him down the hall in blind hope that she will lead him to Jeremy? What other choice did he have?

But oh yeah, he was her 'step-brother' and they had to see 'Madeline' in the hospital. They would probably get in trouble if they were with anyone but Caroline's sister. Presumably anyway, Michael didn't know the rules! He was just making blind, pessimistic assumptions! The last time he was at a hospital, it was because Freshman Jeremy had broken his finger punching a senior in the face. (That's a story all on its own, brain implosion due to finding out about Jeremy's bisexuality and such.)

And yeah, Michael was worried about his friend's finger, but he knew that it would heal and it would be like nothing happened after the four to six weeks it would take for it to be back to normal. (People called Jeremy The Suckerpunch Kid for two weeks, it was a whole thing.)

But that broken finger wasn't directly connected to Jeremy's brain. That wasn't something that made him scream like he was going to die. That wasn't something that knocked him out. That wasn't something that got him strapped onto a stretcher. That wasn't something that made him need to take an ambulance to the hospital. That was completely different. People got broken fingers all the time, people did not pass out when deactivating a computer in their brain all the time! This was different and unknown and scary!

Room 204 was the first door on the left side of the hallway. The redhead peeked through the window for a second before simply moving on to the next door to do the same, and the next and the next. Michael found it unfortunate that he wasn't able to read Caroline's mind like she was able to read his. So naturally, he didn't know what she was doing and felt that it was vital information. "That's not-"

"I know." Caroline cut in. "We're finding him."

In hindsight, that made sense. That was why they sped all the way to the hospital in the first place. Part of Michael was still afraid of breaking the rules cuz they said they'd be seeing Caroline's sister but they are very actively not in her room and stress stress stressstressstress! "But... But Madi?"

Letting out a sigh when the patient behind the next window wasn't Jeremy, the girl whirled around to the boy. "Michael, I can't even reasonably say I know that kid and I love him more than my slut of a sister." She almost snapped. "Yeah, Jeremy's an asshole for what he did, but I know that he's still a good kid."

Now sure, Jeremy recognized the slushee girl just as much as Michael did, but he hadn't been the one pouring his heart out to her for the last who-knows-how-long. And yeah, Caroline recognized him too, but they didn't ever talk or get to know each other. "And you barely know him." Michael repeated back to her. Half-rolling her eyes, she pointed her hands at him.

"Look. Before all this SQUIP shit or whatever it is, you and him'd come into Sev almost every week since you were what, fourteen?" That was around when the three began to recognize each other more often. Finding real names to be a bit boring, the boys eventually nicknamed her Slushee Girl and she started calling them Slushee Gays. (Cherry Gay and Blue Raspberry Bi specifically.)

"May not know him as well as I know you, but I feel like I do. You two are like the brothers I never had." Caroline was rooting for the Michael/Jeremy relationship, which made the brother thing a little weird. Luckily, she caught this. "Or, I see Jeremy more like a son that I wanna protect and I see you like a-" She waved a hand, abandoning the simile altogether. That was probably the best choice. "Point is! I couldn't care less about Madeline, 'kay? Bringin' a different meaning to 'family first'."

This was when Michael decided that Caroline was a goddamn saint. She was helping him find the guy he was hopelessly in love with in favor of an actual blood relative. She would probably get in trouble with her parents for it, but she clearly couldn't care less. This college girl was putting some dumb high schooler's problems above her own. Almost seemed like she cared about her friends more than she cared about herself.

God, that is such a Jeremy thing...

Michael could've fumbled all of this out to her and told her that she was too good for this world, but he didn't. Instead, he mumbled out the sincerest of thanks he could in the form of, "You are the actual best." Caroline gave a fond smile that crinkled her nose a little bit. "You take the right side and I'll take the left." She said, gesturing to the doors. The boy nodded and sped to the other half of the hall to peek through windows.

That's what the pair did for the next couple minutes. Each of them often muttered some dejected sound to themself as each room showed a face that they didn't know. Over time, they got quicker and sloppier when looking through the narrow windows, sometimes only looking into the room for a second before moving onto the next. About five seconds of scanning the beds turned into one second of glancing around before moving on.

The pair each grew more and more anxious as the minutes flew by with no Jeremy in sight. They'd gone straight down one hall before running back to the four-way intersection to look down the other hall. Michael had rounded the corner to the next door without realizing that someone was going right down that same hall. He didn't run into them, somehow, but Caroline wasn't so lucky.

"Ah, sorry!" Michael heard the person exclaim.

"No no, that was totally my fault! I like, basically tripped over you."

"Well I'm short, you're not really expected to see me, haha."

"Still though. Cute dress by the way."

"Thanks! It has pockets!"

"FLECK ME SIDEWAYS WITH A PADDLE, IT HAS POCKETS?!"

That seemed like a strange thing to get excited over, did most dresses not have pockets? Instead of a breathless question toward Caroline regarding why it was a huge deal when he turned around, a totally different breathless something came out of Michael's mouth.

"Christine?"

In her twirling-around realization of being addressed, the girl knocked on her head and held up a finger, her eyes screwed shut in concentration. "Don't tell me! Umm..." She opened her eyes with some hopeful fear. "Michael?" In the surprise of Christine actually knowing his name and not just knowing him as Antisocial Headphones Kid, he almost forgot to confirm her guess. "Yeah." Christine let out a little 'yes!' under her breath, which Michael found dorky and objectively cute. (And you can actually believe him when he says 'objectively' what with him not being straight and all.)

Just as out of breath from running as Michael, Caroline pointed a finger over the shorter girl's head. "This is Christine?" She asked. "Damn, girl, you tiny." Christine giggled, putting her hands on her hips like a superhero. "Yup! I'm a towering five-foot-nothing! Fear me, mortal!"

Despite Michael finding the girl infamous for being Jeremy's crush and feeling a sort of natural rivalry, he really didn't know very much about her. Although now he found his friend's feelings a bit more understandable; she was a freaking dork. He shared a couple classes with Christine, but could he talk to her like a real acquaintance? The boy figured she only knew his name from the random times he was called on to answer a question at school. (If his hand isn't raised, he doesn't have an answer, it's not a difficult concept! Stupid English teacher...)

God, how was it that Michael couldn't figure out how to talk to people? Like, there was literally nothing stopping him. Maybe it was more just starting conversations that was the hard part. He felt like he could probably bullshit his way through it if he could just squeeze in and say hi. Or, you know, something.

Christine and Caroline were engaging in some sort of banter relating to the shorter girl's 'superpowers' when Michael found a way to (sort of, kinda, maybe) break the ice. "I see you're alive and well." The girl's black hair swished over her shoulders. "Yeah!" She confirmed. "Yeah, passing out was kinda scary though. I legitimately forgot my name, but it came back pretty quick."

Ok, seemingly unrelated, but we can work with it.

"Scary indeed." The boy agreed mindlessly.

"And I woke up in the ambulance too!" Christine pointed a thumb over her shoulder, emphasizing where she was at the time. The girl continued to wave her hands around as she spoke. "So understandably so, I kinda freaked out for a second like 'where am I, what's going on, what happened' and other stuff like that. I'm actually supposed to be in Room 311 right now, but I snuck out. Cuz you know, rules are made to be broken, haha. Anyway, I'm pretty confused and...- I'm sorry, did you wanna say something? I'm kinda rambling a bit, I do that sometimes. All the times."

Huh? Oh yeah, that's what he was trying to do. Um, maybe she knew something about where Jeremy was? Yeah! If she woke up on the ride to Beth Israel, than she would know if he had as well. After staring blankly for a hot second, Michael found his words. "Uh, I saw you and Jeremy were put in the same ambulance. You wouldn't happen to know if he's awake, would you?" That sounded way better than lucklessly asking where he was and if he was ok.

"I was asking around and a lot of people said that they woke up on the ride here like I did, but... Jeremy didn't." A concerned look brushed across Christine's features, her hands still illustrating a scene. "A couple other people said they regained consciousness within a few minutes of arriving, but I don't know what his situation looks like. They wheeled him away before I could ask any questions."

Shit. Dammit. Well there goes that. The girl must have seen something worried in Michael's expression, because her own expression grew more worried along with it. "I'm sorry, I wish I could give you a more helpful answer." She apologized sincerely. "Maybe I could help you find him though?"

The boy was about to instinctively say that she didn't have to feel sorry or obligated to help when Caroline nodded furiously. "That would be awesome, thank you." From the way she said it, she sounded very in need of help. She stuck her hand out in greeting. "Name's Caroline, by the way." The short girl shook her hand. "Christine, I go to Michael's school. I'm assuming you know each other?"

"Long story, but yeah. I've heard a little about you, not much. Not important right now! Looking for Jeremy right now!"

"Right!"

Michael let Caroline do the talking since it seemed like she was much better at doing it that he was. Or she was better at bullshitting her way through. She was better either way, so he let her ask where in the hospital Christine had already been so that they wouldn't waste time looking for a boy that wouldn't be there.

As soon as Michael had that thought, some unintelligible chatter about how quickly all the rooms filled up and clicking wheels echoed down a hallway to his right. His heart backflipped when his head turned.

Lo and behold, there Jeremy was.

Still in his stretcher.

Just.

As unconscious as ever.

Michael's heart went from doing backflips to falling into the pit of his stomach while his brain kicked into overdrive and his mouth formed Jeremy's name and it scratched his throat and his legs flew down the hall in loud stomps and his eyes stung and his chest hurt and Caroline said, "Oh shit!" and chased after him and Christine snapped out of her own reverie in a startle and came close behind and shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitSHIT-

"JEREMY!"

An onslaught of voices whose owners weren't clear.

"Can you hear me, dude? Shit, please!"

"Sir, please step away so we can take this patient to a room."

"Miss Doctor-Nurse-Person, could you please tell us if he's going to be alright?"

"We'll need to hook him up to a heart monitor."

"Hello? Our friend is on the border of a panic attack, we kinda need an answer!"

"We don't have enough information to give you a clear response, ma'am."

"Jer! God, I'm sorry for not being there sooner to help with your SQUIP. But please, don't make me suffer more than I need to! Don't leave me alone for any longer than you already have!"

"Can you at LEAST tell us that he'll live? Please, at least give us that!"

"We understand your concern for your friend, but there simply isn't enough information about how he passed out for us to give you an answer."

"He had a SQUIP! It's a pill that he activated with Mountain Dew and deactivated by giving Christine its red counterpart!"

"Oooh, is that what happened?? I don't remember, I passed out."

"Everyone else had a SQUIP too! That's why there are so many people that zonked out with no explanation, he had his the longest out of all of them!"

"Is this a prescription pill that your friend took?"

"I- no! It's a- really long story, I-"

"It doesn't matter! Michael here is Jeremy's best friend and I can safely say that we will both lose our freaking shit if they're not reunited!"

"Ma'am, please calm down."

"Ok, NEVER tell a girl to calm down when she's upset! It DOESN'T work! I should know, I am one!"

"Excuse me?! Telling me to calm down right now is like shooting someone in the leg and then asking them why they're bleeding! I will see to it that Michael is by that kid's side while you're bringing him back."

"Cari, you've done so much already though."

"I'm shit at standing up for myself, but I'll be damned if I can't stand up for you!"

"Is it weird that I feel like that's something Jeremy would say?"

"Can we not talk about what Jeremy would say, Christine? Please?"

"Oh, sorry! My bad! Is that a bathroom? Sorry, guys, I'll be right back!"

"Here, Room 413 with Goranski."

"On it."

The doctors or nurses or paramedics or whoever they were pushed the gurney through the door, which opened and slammed against the wall with a loud THWUMP. That's how everything else around Michael was, just loud. Loud and negative and scary and stressful and not letting him see Jeremy.

Not letting him see Jeremy, not letting him see Jeremy, not letting him protect Jeremy, not letting him go up to Jeremy, not letting him tell Jeremy that he was going to be ok, them telling him he couldn't see Jeremy, Caroline telling them off for not letting him see Jeremy, them blocking his view of Jeremy, telling him to stop screaming out to Jeremy, asking him to remain calm, telling him to stop crying, mindlessly and insincerely apologizing for not letting him see Jeremy, Caroline STILL protesting against the doctors, STILL trying to coerce them into letting him be by Jeremy's side.

More nurses and doctors being called to help out, Michael harshly begging to be with Jeremy, Caroline threatening the doctors with an ever-faltering badass facade, doctors pushing Michael and Caroline out to the room's entrance, Michael and Caroline struggling against them, Michael and Caroline shouting out the importance of being with Jeremy right now, Michael and Caroline making a scene, Michael and Caroline kicking and screaming, Michael and Caroline being pushed out into the hall, the doctor giving a flat order to quiet down and seize being a disturbance.

The door being shut as loudly as it was opened. Michael choking out more helpless pleads to be let in. Caroline banging on the door in fury to be let in.

Caroline banging on the door.

Michael pleading helplessly.

Caroline cursing out the doctors.

Michael standing in the middle of the hall.

Caroline growling in frustration.

Michael's pleas growing quieter and quieter.

Caroline's knocks slowly subsiding.

Michael hiccuping helplessly.

Caroline looking over her shoulder.

Caroline's anger vanishing.

Caroline's eyes softening.

Michael hiccuping breathily.

Michael's shoulders shaking.

Michael breaking.

Michael breaking.

Michael breaking.

The redhead brought her arms around Michael's neck to silence him in a hug. He could tell that she was standing on her tiptoes even though it wasn't a necessity. "Shh... I know, I know..." The girl whispered, making the boy melt and weakly return the embrace. And what else is new, but he was projecting Jeremy again. Projecting Jeremy onto Caroline, specifically. They both had freckles, fair skin, cool-colored eyes, they were roughly the same height, 'twiggy' as the two had often referred to themselves as, the similarities were borderline uncanny.

In that moment, Caroline might as well have been a female Jeremy with red hair. Michael could've pretended his best friend was the one he was hugging if the slushee girl didn't have a slightly curvier waist. Maybe not by much, but enough to make the distinction between her and the real Jeremy.

More sobs wracking his body, Michael both hunched over Caroline and melted into her. He buried his face in the crook between her neck and her left shoulder, not caring how foggy, cloudy and smudged it would make his glasses. He could clean them later, who cared. Caroline continued to gently shush him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. "I know, I know. It sucks, it really, really does suck. I'm sorry..."

The boy sniffled and squeezed the girl a little tighter, his breaths coming out shaky and broken. She responded by tightening her own hold around him. "Wish there was more I could do..." Caroline whispered. She began to lower herself and Michael to the ground, which Michael had no problem doing. The pair scooted closer to the wall on the opposite side of the Room 413 door. Caroline went to his left side and let him rest his head in her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around the boy to continue rubbing circles into his arm.

They'd done this so many times before. They would migrate to the dusty ground of the 7-Eleven that Caroline worked at to let Michael either talk his feelings out, or cry them out, whichever came first. Being emotional when sitting down just felt more right somehow, they couldn't explain it. Maybe they needed to feel smaller. Maybe that helped in some strange way. But there they were, being emotional on the ground. Because it felt right for some odd reason.

Michael didn't think he had the right to ask Caroline what had happened to her friend, but still wanted a bit of context to compare to his own situation. Sometimes he didn't know if he was overreacting or not. "What were you like when the... Whatever it was happened with Harmony?" He asked quietly.

The girl gave a single-syllable laugh, though it didn't feel too much like a real one. "Reacted the same way you did. Screaming and crying and just... Kinda hysterical. Having a big gay crush will do that." Her voice began to waver at the end. Michael could see her wipe at her eyes in his peripherals, hearing a preceding sniffle that she was probably trying to hide.

Dammit, now she's crying too.

"You good?"

"Just... remembering it, I guess." Again, Michael didn't know what had happened and didn't think it was his place to ask, but he could tell that she had every reason to react as badly as him. Caroline would've been fourteen if the thing happened in 2010, it seemed justified in his mind. The girl softly laughed once more.

A laugh-away-the-pain kinda thing.

"I'm a sympathetic crier, in case you somehow didn't already know. It's... flabbergasting that I kept my cool as long as I did considering that you've been nonstop waterworks for the past... Hour?" The boy had firsthand experience with the slushee girl's sympathy tears. In all his tearful late night rants sitting on or behind the 7-Eleven counter, Caroline would get misty-eyed along the way more often than not.

They both had major heart eyes for their best friend, it was hard for her not to relate and put herself in that situation. Though he supposed that she was being more of an empathetic crier at the moment. Caroline made some emotional noise to herself, hiding her eyes with her free hand. "Shit, man, it's cuz ship you two. You and Jeremy would make such a cute-ass couple."

"From what I know, so would you and Harmony."

"No, really, you guys are like my OTP."

"Your... what?"

"It... stands for One True Pairing."

"I thought it stood for Oh The Pain."

That made Caroline titter and gesture at nothing. "Honestly though, what's the difference?" She squeaked, at least somewhat amused by the situation. Michael guessed that there wasn't any real difference. Because what really is the difference between wishing you were in a relationship with someone and being in constant and indistinct pain?

Exactly.

There isn't one.

The sound of shoes gently clapping against the hard tile floor approached. The footsteps weren't anywhere near as deafening as those of just a few moments ago due to it only being one person walking through the hall as opposed to six, plus the 'clickity clackity' of the stretcher.

Christine softly gasped, so quiet that it almost wasn't there. "Oh my gods..." She murmured. The actress quickened her pace, though her steps were no louder than they just were. Christine knelt down on Michael's right, the air under her skirt making the fabric float for half a second before settling back down onto her knees. She held a hand over her mouth and wore a hurt expression. Great, she was probably going to start crying too. She loved Jeremy too after all.

Although the girl didn't grieve at the door for a loved one a million worlds apart like Michael had, no. Christine instantly came to his side. It was almost like she was crying for him more than she was crying for Jeremy. "I'm so sorry..." The girl whispered through a hiccup, bringing her arms around the boy without even knowing the extent of what happened. Much like he had with Caroline, he melted into her embrace. What could he say, they both proved to give great hugs.

The next thing the three knew, they were all in a tearful hug pile on the ground across from Jeremy's door. All three of them spilt tears that shared the unconscious boy as their catalyst. Caroline loved him like family, whether that be like a son or a brother. Christine loved him like a partner, whether that be romantic or platonic. Only Michael truly knew the extent of how much he loved Jeremy, all the worse that he couldn't have him in all the ways he dreamed of. That sounded a little dirty. The dirtier implications may have been true too, but certainly weren't the only ways that Michael dreamed of having Jeremy.

Nonetheless, they were the trio that loved Jeremy.

After what felt like hours and hours of hours of silently sobbing on the floor, Caroline broke the sound barrier. "Do ya wanna go to the waiting room?" She asked softly, like she was afraid that speaking any louder would exacerbate Michael's mood. "You know, to sit in a real chair or something?" Christine pulled away from the boy slightly, wiping her eyes and waiting patiently for his response.

Michael thought about it for a second, a real chair would probably be more comfy than sitting on the ground against a wall. But he didn't want get up for two reasons. One was because he didn't want to walk all that way just for an (as we've already discussed) uncomfortable chair. It just didn't quite seem worth it. The other was because he didn't want to be any further from Jeremy than he already was. Simply being behind the goddamn door was too painful of a distance. (Insert Panic! at the Disco joke here.)

Answering the slushee girl's question after a quick glance to the actress, Michael sniffled. "I'd say yes, but..." His voice broke on 'but', though he still finished his unoriginal thought. "It's too far." That was true in multiple ways. A reminiscent smile pulled on Caroline's lips.

"Mood."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I TOOOOOTALLY didn't listen to a BMC NYC lootbeg (COUGH COUGH https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wlugZbXN-dc COUGHITY COUCH COUGH) and I also TOOOOOTALLY didn't predict the Heeres' argument right before The Pants Song coming befORE The Pitiful Children OR Jeremy asking Jenna how she is and her bein all like "buh'sCUSE YOu, you actually cARE?????" NOPE. NOT AT ALL. NOT ONE. LITTLE. BIT. Psychic Jeremy is nOT HEERE. I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!
> 
> And in a way The Pants Song/Chapter in gENERal came before The Pitiful Children, some of The Pants Song taking place during The Pitiful Children and The Play. (Ok wow that is super confusing it's three The *P Word* Songs in a row, my gods Be More Creative™ Joe geez...)
> 
> Edit: the lootbeg has been taken down but I swear I ain't makin shiz up, IT EXISTED
> 
> 10/10/18 Edit: so appARENTLY I first thought of the Scaremy pun on 4/25/18 cuz i jUst found the note for that wOW you you can see how long I was waiting to make that joke!


	21. Those Voices In My Head: Act One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternatively titled "Everyone rolls their eyes in realization and shakes their head in reluctance while making faces at each other because hindsight is 20/20 featuring The Tiniest Futurama Reference In The World"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School started on August 22.  
> I auditioned for Pirates of Penzance with I Love Play Rehearsal on August 27 at like 5 PM.  
> I bombed that audition.  
> I had my post-audition meltdown 13 hours late wherein all the emotions hit me in the face like a brick and I started crying at 6 AM.  
> Had a dream about getting a lead role and woke up butthurt when I realized it was just a dream on August 29.  
> I didn't make the callback list that wasn't even posted until thAT day, AFTER the dream.  
> I'd cried about it 4 more times.  
> I fell on my face in yoga and broke my glasses (or as my friend put it, my glasses went to war with the floor and lost) on August 30.  
> (For those keeping track of the days, this was all in ONE. WEEK.)  
> My iPod got a weird outward dent(???) on the side and it possessed the screen something fierce on September 11 (unfortunate convenience of it being on 9/11...) It was still operational, I just couldn't see the bottom half of the screen cuz it was either all white, glitchy or both.  
> Had what I suspect may have been panic attacks but may have just as easily been mental breakdowns on September 18 and 19 and October 2.  
> Got a sick-nasty bruise on October 3.  
> I have a choir concert tomorrow (October 9).  
> People keep mistaking me for a freshman (not necessarily bad).  
> The dishes are dirty people.  
> Let's heckin do this.

The short girl whirled around the corner, beaming like the sun. "Jeremy!"

Something about hearing her voice made the situation both more and less stressful. It took a moment for Jeremy to realize the that he had forgotten to breathe for the past couple seconds. "C-Christine!" He practically gasped out. Christine wasn't nearly as paradoxical as some other people that he knew, but it was strange that her presence was both heartwarmingly comforting and dreadfully gut-wrenching at the same time. 

The actress appeared in front of him within seconds, her hands enveloping one of his. "Oh my gods, did you see me out there? The audience loved me!" Christine fawned, heartfelt and filled with emotion. She was excited, the fact that she was holding Jeremy's hand meant nothing! They'd literally cuddled not too long ago! Like, less than an hour ago! His head on her shoulder meant nothing! She outright said that she didn't mind cuddling with random people! So dammit, why does it feel like a big deal that Christine is touching his hand?

 

_"I want Christine."_

_"I promise you, Jeremy, Christine will be wrapped around your finger in no time."_

_"You don't want to drink that, Jeremy!"_

_"Why not?! Give me one good reason!"_

_"Because then you'll never be with her!"_

 

Oh.

 

Oh...

 

This... couldn't be real, this had to be a trick! Jeremy had to stop his SQUIP! Nevertheless, he couldn't leave Christine hanging. That would just be rude. "That's, amazing- Well, I mean, o-of course they did. Why- why wouldn't they?" He stumbled out, brain scattered between 'oh my God, is this actually happening?' and 'oh my God, this can't be happening!'

Christine gave a pouty smile. "You're too nice, Jeremy. But I suppose that isn't such a bad thing." She shrugged. "Which is a shame, I wish I could've done more to appreciate it. Not that I'm saying this will happen, but I don't want to lose touch with you once our last show ends on Monday." Her thoughts seemed a bit more organized than usual, something Jeremy found slightly unsettling. 

Regardless, he had to agree with her. "Me neither." The boy had to look down at the short girl at a fairly drastic angle, seeing as how he had a good seven inches on Christine. She smiled and nodded her head, her hair bobbing along with the movement. "Glad we agree." The actress said. Jeremy didn't want to be rude, but it felt a bit like she was dragging out the conversation. And, well, he was kind of in a hurry! SQUIP trying to take over the entire school and all! It'd be easier for Jeremy to just drink the soda right then and there, but when does he ever make things easy for himself?

Exactly.

He doesn't. 

Christine gave a sad sigh, her eyes casting down to her hands around Jeremy's. "I just wish we could've hung out more. At rehearsal, during English, on Halloween," A small laugh. "Heck, even outside of school. Every single time we got to sit down and talk was... Really killer." Her ghost of a smile began to falter. "If only the circumstances were better. And despite all those times I talked to you, I still know next to nothing about you."

Again, Jeremy had to agree. Christine was a fun person that he would've really liked to hang out with more. And that was outside of the whole Project Your Feelings For Michael Onto Christine thing! Talking to her at Jake's party was one of, if not the only redeeming quality of the night. To use her exact words, it was pretty killer. 

If her personality and sense of humor from the day Jeremy met her were reliable enough to go off of, then he could've had a lot of laughs with her. Hell, maybe Christine could've been his second ever friend! (Because, well, little cousins kinda don't count as friends.) Honestly, his SQUIP was doing a really bad job of allowing him to be closer to her. And it knew that was the big reason why Jeremy got it! So it was all a very strange concept. 

One of the very many reasons why he wanted it gone. Maybe not one of the top five reasons, but still an honorable mention nonetheless. 

"You think I've done an ineffective job of making your goal a reality, yet here we are." The supercomputer quipped. 

'Oh shut your ass face.' Jeremy thought dryly. 

He didn't notice that the short girl was still speaking until just then, part of him didn't care. The other part really, REALLY didn't want to be rude to her since she was absolutely nothing but kind every time Jeremy was with her. Because if you are not nice to Christine then you are a terrible sinner that must be punished. She then paused, looking down and giving a soft laugh. "Sorry, I just... I don't know how to say this."

Jeremy gave the tiniest shrug he could alongside the same advice she had given to him once upon a dreadful All Hallows' Eve. "Just... Say whatever's on your mind." The boy said quietly, holding the soda bottle against his chest. He couldn't let himself forget about it. He couldn't let himself forget he was holding it. The girl smiled up at him, soft and sweet and lovable.

 

"Lunch? Just the two of us?"

 

Jeremy's eyes widened, an unrecognizable feeling settling into his chest.

"...What?"

Christine giggled. "You heard me, silly." She said playfully, her soft brown eyes seeming to give off a blue glow around the rims. 

Blue. 

Glow. 

SQUIPped. 

The boy very nearly stole his hand away from the girl, but something internal blocked him from doing such. "That is not Christine..." He unintentionally muttered. 

"I assure you, it is!" The SQUIP insisted, something almost menacing blooming as it spoke on. "Only her fears and insecurities have been removed!"

Jeremy somehow had half a brain to not voice his next thoughts out loud. 'What insecurities?? Christine is always so unapologetically weird and it's great!'

He didn't, however, have the other half of his brain required to keep his stupid mouth shut. "I- d- uh, I- er, I, um." He stuttered poetically. 

Smooth...

Apparently not having heard the boy say she wasn't really herself, Christine quirked an eyebrow at him. "Are you always this articulate?" She giggled. She was being so giggly right now. Did Jeremy seem that funny to her? Was she being flirty? What are girls?! How does one interact with one?!

"I know what I said earlier, but I was wrong. We both were. SQUIPs? They might not be such a bad thing after all." It wasn't until the actress mentioned the pill by name that Jeremy knew that was what she was talking about. It at first seemed like she meant she was wrong to turn down his (entirely accidental) date offer two weeks ago, but it didn't make a real difference. (He was tipsy that night anyway, he really didn't care.)

Because SQUIPs? Her being ok with the idea of a voice in her head? That was more important right now! And dammit, the very thing she was now on board with was the very thing Jeremy wanted to rid himself of! Just-! Shit, no! No one was safe!

As a knee-jerk reaction, he attempted to tear his enclosed hand away from Christine to the bottle still held against his chest. Christine, however, had other plans. Sure, he could have simply brought the bottle to his lips without his captured hand. But again, when does Jeremy ever make things easy for himself?

He doesn't. 

"I know you don't want your SQUIP anymore." The girl said gently, pressing her hands down on the top of the plastic capsule as if it were a crystal ball. "I was scared at first when mine activated. But I know now that our lives can be so much better if we connect to another source." Her warm hands pressed over Jeremy's own around the bottle. She was really making a point to keep their hands connected. 

"I really like you, Jeremy. More than most people."

Christine shyly cast her eyes to the ground once more.

"Gods, dare I even say..."

Brown eyes met blue.

"I love you."

 

The only way to describe Jeremy in that moment was, blank. Christine's claim floated around in his head for a moment, lazily pushing off the walls of his mind until it finally sank in. 

'I love you.'

Love?

Just, immediately? Love?

Not even a childish 'like like'?

Just.

Love?

Oh...

"That's your cue, Slugger." The SQUIP almost sang, egging him on. 'Slugger', hasn't used that one in a while. 

Jeremy looked from his and Christine's joined hands to the girl's face and back again. "She'll do whatever I want..." He murmured, so quietly that he wasn't sure if the words had made it past his thoughts. Christine gave a chaste, yet eager nod as a means to assure him that he had actually spoken. "That's what I promised." The supercomputer said earnestly. 

Jeremy had to admit, it wasn't lying. 

 

_"I want Christine."_

 

That's what he had said. 

Gaze flitting from the girl's face to the plastic bottle, the boy soon let out a quiet, breathy sigh. He lent a soft smile, relieved, in some dreadfully disheartening way. "Great." Jeremy breathed, wondering if it was possible for him to start floating up to the catwalk. This was what he'd always wanted after all. He'd wanted Christine. 

And now, he had her. 

He carefully brought his free hand up to the girl's face, fingertips barely grazing her cheek as if she were a fragile porcelain doll. Christine leaned into the touch so Jeremy was cupping her face, looking up at him with gooey heart eyes.  He noted the squishiness of her cheek as he swept his thumb across her skin. Jeremy began to lean down closer to Christine. Christine was leaning up on her tiptoes to help bridge the gap. It seemed pretty clear how that story was about to end.

Which was understandable, all things considered. Christine was such a peach, soft, cute, caring and sweet in every way. She really was such an amazing girl. Everything about her truly was wonderful. She was so much more than she was when she wasn't SQUIPped. She was great before, but now? Now she was radiant, graceful, soft-spoken, and just so...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not Christine. 

 

"Drink this."

The lip of the soda bottle was what kept Jeremy's and Christine's from meeting, the boy's words becoming slightly echoed within its plastic confines. The girl took the nearly-empty container out of his hand, tipping it so its red contents slid down its side and into her mouth. Within seconds, there wasn't a salvageable drop inside. 

She definitely wasn't lying when she said she'd do whatever Jeremy wanted. 

Time both sped up and slowed down for a moment. "Jeremy, you imbecile!" The SQUIP shouted, either to its host or to itself. It did its own version of a facepalm, what with not being corporeal and all. "Never did I anticipate you being stupid enough to give HER the soda!"

Now, after almost two and a half months of communicating with a voice in his head, Jeremy had gotten better at not animating his face so much when thinking at his SQUIP. The boy could hold a completely neutral face externally. So no one would know that he was internally grinning the widest sneer and snottily telling the supercomputer to 'Lick it up, baby! Lick. It. Up.'

When Christine finally brought the empty bottle down, she blinked and gave a blank stare.

Jeremy was somewhat afraid that the deactivation didn't work. That she had just drank the final drops of a soda that wasn't special in any way, shape or form. But then again, normal people don't stare blankly after finishing a drink. Then again, Christine wasn't Normal People. So what did Jeremy know?

"How do you feel?" He timidly asked her. 

She dropped her head forward unexpectedly, reminiscent of Mr. Reyes 'shutting down' before it was apparent his SQUIP had activated. In recognizing this, Jeremy startled and made a face at her. Was turning a SQUIP off really just that easy? Damn. 

"...Is that your answer?" He asked flatly, semi-aware of how dumb that sounded. 

Then the bottle clattered to the ground and Christine began to scream.

Ear-piercing, glass-shattering, banshee-like, other adjectives that Jeremy couldn't think of. 

Her scream began to resonate more, the unmistakable sound of Chloe and Brooke joining in. Had Christine started a Scream? Or a Squeal? Like a Howl, but with teenage girls instead of wolves?

Well if it was a Scream or a Squeal or a Whatever, then it wasn't limited to just girls. Jake began screaming too! JAKE, dammit! So it clearly wasn't a gender binary thing, there was a different link. Maybe it wasn't just a screaming thing, maybe it was a pain thing. 

Maybe it was a SQUIP thing. 

Ok, not for Michael though, that was obviously a fear thing. Wait, Michael? Holy shit, Michael! Michael screaming?! Poor baby, no! It's gonna be ok! ...Jeremy hopes at least... There was nothing more he could do other than sweep his gaze over the students as each one added on their own shriek to the Choir of Screaming SQUIPped Students™. 

After Michael, Jenna.

Then the seniors.

The rest of the juniors.

Sophomores...

Freshmen...

And then eventually, with the single most delayed reaction out of all of them, Jeremy himself.

Compared to the torture of  deactivating a SQUIP, activating it was like getting a pinch on St. Patrick's Day for not wearing green. 

That sounded a little confusing, ok. The pain of activating the SQUIP was NOTHING compared to that of deactivating it. There, that sounds better. 

Much like what Jeremy had previously endured, there was warbling and static and overall not good stuff. The only real difference was the fact that his SQUIP was yelling fearful(?) protests to him as opposed to degrading insults or threats. He would later clarify that the searing, seething, white-hot pain wasn't nearly as bad as what he'd felt after calling Michael, or even the morning after Halloween, but it still came close. It came really freaking close. 

And about thirty-something teenagers could vouch for that. 

All screaming bloody murder at the immense agony. 

The world began to tilt. 

A huge, collective, echoey T H U D resonated throughout the entire backstage. 

Then silence. 

And darkness. 

 

~~~

 

_"Soooo, about the SQUIP..." Jeremy tried to slide in without it seeming forced. Apparently it wasn't. Michael shook his head. "Think he's scamming you, dude. A 600 dollar tic tac that whispers secrets from the void to you doesn't sound like anything more than some kind of RPG familiar or pet." As Jeremy struggled to keep a straight face at the thought of such a thing, he rebutted. "But what if it's more than that? What if it really is all that it's cracked up to be? I mean, Rich is kinda all the proof we have, but it's pretty compelling."_

_Michael seemed troubled. Like he wanted to continue brushing off the SQUIP like it was nothing, but couldn't think of any way to do so. His eyes fixed on a point on the wall parallel to himself and Jeremy. "I mean..." He started, almost unwillingly. "If it is, if it really IS that much of a game changer, and you do take this pill... What then?" He was visibly uneasy, which worried Jeremy to no end. "What do you mean?"_

_"Like..." He looked up at the ceiling, as if the words he were looking for were written there and he was secretly trying to find the answer. He dropped his hands on the counter in defeat, eyes returning to Jeremy's. "Will you even need me when you're cool and loved by the whole school? When you, like, get with Christine or whatever and everyone stops treating you like trash?" That hadn't even crossed Jeremy's mind, he couldn't imagine his life changing so much that Michael wouldn't even be a part of it. The thought alone made him want to curl up and cry._

_"What? Dude, I would never abandon you like that." He scooted his stool closer his friend's, debating how much physical contact to make, if any. How could Michael think that he meant that little to Jeremy? "You know you've kept me sane throughout the years, and you... helped me through some tough shit. I could never, ever just forget you or- or leave you behind or anything like that." Jeremy felt his face flush as he finally decides to put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "You're like... My favorite person, Michael." He put as much care and sincerity as he could into the words. He needed to know that Jeremy truly cared for him, up to a certain extent at least._

_Michael seemed to turn pink himself, which wasn't nearly as noticeable as with Jeremy's pale as all hell complexion. A fond smile crept across his face though. "Is it really true?" He leaned into Jeremy in an obvious tease, dragging his friend's exact words out. "I'm your favowite pewson?" Jeremy leaned away in a fluster with a dismissive laugh. "Not when you say it like that!" Michael laughed in return, with any remaining doubt that he had appearing to melt away. But Jeremy wanted to be sure. Self-deprecation was his job, not Michael's._

_"Of course," he began. "If I were to leave my brother behind, life would be so, SO lame!" Catching on, the red sweatshirt clad teen joined in unison. "Cuz it's an effed up world but it's a two-player game!" That definitely helped. Not only Michael, but Jeremy too. Both of them saying it made it seem more official, that they would stick together no matter what. They would deal with whatever shit necessary. They had no reason to believe that the opposite was true._

_"Speaking of games, you ready to get back to ours?" Michael nodded, grabbing his cheeto bag and soda can. "Let's show this damned apocalypse who's boss!"_

 

~~~

 

 

 

 

 

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

Jeremy was in that state where he wasn't fully awake or fully asleep. He knew he was lying in a bed without opening his eyes and he knew he had just been asleep. But he wasn't nearly alert enough to open his eyes right up and go about his day all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. 

Tail, heh. 

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

Where on Earth did that stupid furry joke even come from? It's like, Michael just kinda started calling him a furry one day. And then he didn't really officially stop. He'd forgotten about it a couple times, but then Jeremy would very stupidly point it out and the teasing would come back. 

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

Why are we thinking about that now? Sleep is a much more enjoyable topic. Sleep is like little doses of death. Death without the commitment. An open relationship with death. Death with benefits. An every night stand. One night and one more time, thanks for the memories even though they weren't so great~ he tastes like you only sweeter! That's a weird line. Jeremy never quite understood it fully.  

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

Oh shoot, what were the misheard lyrics of that other Fall Out Boy song? 'I'm just a notch in your bedpost' sounded like something else, didn't it? I'm just'a nudgin' your bagels but you're just a line on a song. Heheh, yeah, that was it. I'll be your number one with a bullet, I know you've got cornflakes cookin' in pudding! 

Heheh, it's so stupid but it's great. 

It seemed like a long time since Jeremy was able to enjoy the stupid things in life. 

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

Maybe because it was a long time. 

Maybe because he was going through some stupid things in life that weren't so enjoyable. 

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

Maybe they weren't enjoyable at all. Maybe they hurt people. Maybe they weren't meant to be taken lightheartedly. Maybe... They should even be regretted. 

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

Yeah, definitely. 

They should definitely be regretted. 

But should they be forgiven?

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

Jeremy... Didn't know. After a moment of thought, he decided that no, they shouldn't be forgiven. They were just that horrible. 

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

Jeremy was just that horrible. 

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

_Bip..._

 

His eyes began to crack open without his consent. The first thing he was met with was blinding fluorescent light, which, ow. But also, what? Where on Earth could Jeremy possibly be with such bright lights, 7-Eleven? No, 7-Eleven doesn't have beds with pillows raised at an acute angle. Or at least he didn't think so. And the best they could do to make it seem like they did would be to have some elaborate setup with neck pillows and such. 

Sooo, the only other possible option was a hospital, right? That would explain the soft beeping, but what the hell was Jeremy doing in a hospital? Much less, lying on a bed. What in God's name had happened that Jeremy was on the bed end of a hospital visit?

Heh, get it? Like bad end instead of wrong end and bed end instead of bad end?

...

Yeah, that's stupid. 

But hey, enjoying the stupid things!

In fact, was Jeremy even in a hospital or was he hallucinating and/or crazy? 

Probably crazy. He doesn't do stupid stuff that warrants a hospital visit, so he's probably also hallucinating the beeping. And the actual brightness of the lights. And the stuffed bear with a heart in his peripherals. And the curtains on either side of him. And the Get Well Soon balloon that looked too nice to be from Dollar Tree. And Jeremy is totally in a hospital. Why is Jeremy in a hospital?!

He sat up in a flash and immediately regretted it, becoming lightheaded. That was almost definitely the start of a headache. Jeremy hissed in pain and ducked his head to his knees, screwing his eyes shut. "Owowowowowow..."

"Hurtth like a bitch, huh?" Someone piped up. 

It wasn't even that the person was talking that loud, but the sudden change of volume in the room was still startling. And like... Jeremy totally jumped more than he probably should have, which wasn't helping the impending headache. In doing this, he met the gaze of the person that'd spoken up. Well, it took him a second because of the bandaging, but he recognized them in what he hoped was an acceptable amount of time. "R-Rich?"

A cocky gesture. "That'th m'name, don't wear it out."

Huh, Jeremy could only remember one time when he'd heard Rich lisp. Damn, that felt like so long ago now. And he supposed it was, truthfully. "You're... Um..."

"Yeah yeah, I know." Rich waved off, rolling his eyes. And unfortunately, since humans still can not yet read minds, he didn't know what Jeremy was really about to say to him. "But you ain't winnin' any beauty pageantth either, Tallasth. You look like hell."

"I feel like hell..." Jeremy mumbled, rubbing circles into his eyes with his palms. Despite knowing he just woke up, he felt like he hadn't slept for a good couple of centuries. Remember me for centuries- dammit, now Fall Out Boy is getting all their songs stuck in his head. He supposed it was to make up for the strange feeling of unusual quietness taking up most of its space. 

The burn victim shrugged. "If it maketh ya feel any better, you probably feel worthe than you look." Jeremy made a face at his knees, too afraid to look at Rich for fear of turning his head too fast or straining his eyes. He blinked a couple times. "I... I-I don't know if that makes me feel better, was that a...?"

Brain fart.

"A, a um... W-what's the word for saying something nice to someone?"

"Compliment?"

"Yeah, was that... Was that a... Compliment?"

Rich arched a confused eyebrow at Jeremy. "I guesth if you want it to be?" He answered uncertainly with a slight shake of his head. "I dunno, I thought you'd feel better knowing that you look better than you feel. Thomething thomething, thelf-ethteem, maybe?"

Having an infinitely difficult time comprehending any and everything, Jeremy simply stared and blinked. Since when did Rich care about his self-esteem?

"Don't get me wrong, I'm not above admitting when another guy hath got thomethin' goin' on, opportunity jutht doethn't alwayth come up. There've been numerouth occasionth where I could be caught thtaring and- oh my God, I am totally bi..." Rich's eyes grew to the size of saucers, voice dropping to a whisper. "Thith explainth tho much."

Heheh, knew it. 

Jeremy smiled, but rolled his eyes at the fact that it took Rich THIS long to figure it out. He decided to congratulate him regardless. "Congrats, man. Welcome to the club." The newly-discovered bisexual blinked up at the other not-so-new bisexual. "You too?"

"Yup."

"Damn, I owe Jenna ten buckth."

Jeremy somehow stopped himself from facepalming and instead flopped back on the bed, which actually didn't feel much better than he hoped it would. "What is it with everyone betting on who I wanna kiss?" He said it louder than he meant to, hissing in pain once more and covering his eyes with his left hand. 

Rich miserably failed to hold back a snicker at the other teen's reaction. "Dunno, man. I'm jutht glad I'm not ath wrong ath Chloe. What wath she thinkin' with that athe bull? Hope she'th got her twenty dollarth ready."

"...Context please?"

"We all bet on your thexuality."

"That much, I could guess."

"Jenna thaid bi, Brooke bet thraight, Chloe - moronically - thaid athexual, Jakey D put his money on pan, and I bet on full homo. And the money you give up goeth off how wrong you were. Thinthe Brooke and I were half right, we only have to pay half." Rich gave an impressed whistle. "But Chloe couldn't've been further off thooo, thuckth to be her!"

All the intricacies of the five-way bet were really doing wonders for Jeremy's headache. "But pansexuality is like, gender is meaningless which is basically infinite?" He most likely sounded drunk when asking, but he probably looked drunk too. Actually, Jeremy doesn't know what he looks like when drunk, just stoned and maaaybe a little tipsy. Possibly. He doesn't remember. Maybe something both within and separate from himself would know...

Rich's mouth formed a crooked line. "None of uth are mathematicians tho we jutht agreed that he'd altho pay half. For thimplithity." Jeremy shrugged lazily. "Best reason to do something, I guess." He murmured apprehensively. Almost like he wasn't sure if that was right, like someone would stop him halfway through and point him in the right direction. 

Why was that? Why did he think he needed permission to speak? Was it just the exhaustion of being asleep for however-long just catching up to him? That seemed plausible, likely even, but not quite. Perhaps Jeremy was just generally off right now. 

The brief silence was broken by Rich once again. Which was fine, he was better at that sort of thing than Jeremy, he knew. "Feelth kinda like you're misthin' a part of yourthelf, doethn't it?"

Ok. Not what he was expecting in the slightest. 

"What do you mean?"

The shorter teen paused for a beat as a worried crease formed between his brows. "Yourth deactivated too, didn't it?"

Huh?

Jeremy's... Deactiv... Oh. 

Oh...

That's right, there used to be a voice telling him how to behave. A voice different from his own internal monologue. A voice that knew him like himself, but wasn't himself. A voice that had extensive knowledge outside of Jeremy's own. A supercomputer. A Super Quantum Unit Intel Processor. 

A SQUIP. 

"Yeah!" The blue-eyed teen said, slightly too loud and a tad needlessly defensive. "Yeah," He said at a more reasonable volume. "Yeah it did, but... How did your SQUIP turn off?"

The very person who had told him that the computers existed wasn't there when... Well, Jeremy wasn't quite sure, but Rich wasn't at the play when... Again, he didn't really know, he knew it was an eventful scenario though. Maybe then it should be The Play, capitalized, for its importance.

There was a long and terrible battle, he remembered, but how had he shut down his SQUIP? Did he drink the Mountain Dew Red? He didn't think so, but maybe? But again, how would that have turned off Rich's SQUIP as well?

"Going off of what Jenna told me, the thquips were communicating with each other thinthe they were all linked. And there was thome high frequenthy thonic bullshit-"

Nope nope nope, Jeremy doesn't need to know anymore, far too complicated. "Rich. My head really hurts."

"You'n me both. Pray the painkillerth kick in thoon."

"Dumb it down please?" The recently-woken teen begged. 

Rich eyed the walls of the room for a moment before waving a dismissive hand. "Ahh, your friend can explain it better than I can anyway." Jeremy squinted at him, wondering if he was still talking about Jenna or not. Cuz you know, she was talking about the super sonic high frequency whatever bullshit, that much he could glean. 

When the burn victim saw his confusion, he elaborated. "Ya know, what'th hith fathe, with the headphoneth, um..." He tapped on empty bed space next to him in concentration. "God- I thwear I know hith name, it wath like... Matthew, or Mitchell, or-"

Jeremy's eyes immediately widened. "Michael?"

"Yeth!" Rich said gratefully. Something inside Jeremy soared. "Thank you! Michael!" The shorter teen spoke a bit more seriously. Not enough to be menacing, just enough to emphasize his point. "Dude'th been by a ton, by the way. Refuthed to leave your thide unlesth he abtholutely had to. Only got up to uthe the bathroom like, twithe? Maybe?" He put emphasis on the maybe, giving the impression that he might not have even left THAT many times. 

And that peaked Jeremy's interest a bit. Not quite so much the Bathroom Thing, (oh God, Halloween flashbacks...) but the Michael Refusing To Leave Thing. "Really?" He asked meekly. The thought of Michael constantly by his side even after the shit-show that was the last two and a half months was so ridiculously sweet. 

Rich's eyes were pulled to the ceiling and rounded to Jeremy once more. "Oh my God, it wath the wortht when they firtht brought you in. Holy. Shit, man! I might've only been half awake but dude wath hythterical, there were tearth! He wath BEGGING to come in with you! Doctorth had to drag 'im outta here kicking and thcreaming! Literally!" He added on the last part as an afterthought. 

Jeremy was about ready to melt right then and there. He was one thousand percent convinced that he didn't deserve Michael. "Really?" He asked again, an octave higher. His voice might've wavered a little, but who's business was it? "Hell yeah, dude. Guy wath broken." The bandaged teen said just a tad too casually for saying that Michael was broken. 

Because what could be a sadder sight than Michael breaking? Michael who was always the one to make Jeremy laugh when he needed a distraction from stress. Michael who was always the levelheaded problem solver. Michael who was always the mentally stable one. Michael who was always fixing Jeremy when he was broken. 

What could be sadder than Jeremy being the one to break Michael?

Since Jeremy was really bad at hiding it when he was feeling bummed out, Rich noticed his silent gaze trained on the blanket draped over him. 

"Look, man." Jeremy hummed at the other teen in acknowledgment of being addressed. "I totally underthtand you feeling weird about talking about it after all the shit I gave you while I wath thquipped, that'th valid. I thought about athking Michael a few timeth but I..." A shrug. "Didn't, thinthe there wath never a great time and whatever. And no judgement cuz I'm totally bi now, but jutht..."

Some form of exasperated sigh was blown upwards. "Ith he your boyfriend or what? Theriouthly! From like the middle of ninth grade all through thophomore year, I could almotht never thee one of you without the other!" Rich's head dropped to his pillow and he spoke to the fluorescent lights, which, how isn't he going blind? "Tho pleathe for the love of God tell me, are you two a thing or not?"

...

Wow. 

Who would've guessed that that information could be so important to him. 

Despite the small smile and even smaller chuckle Jeremy let out, he kept his eyes downcast and shook his head. "I wish..." He murmured before flicking his eyes up to gauge Rich's reaction. 

And then Jeremy saw Michael standing in the doorway over his roommate's shoulder, one eyebrow arched skeptically. 

 

Oh. 

 

OH SHIT, COVER IT UP!

Jeremy's hands flew up in defense, like that would actually keep Michael on the other side of the room. "That! I! Could've, apologized to you sooner because holy shit was I the scum of the Earth!" Rich simply got to watch everything play out before him with a raised eyebrow. There was no doubt in Jeremy's mind that he was still lingering on the topic of he and Michael being A Thing. 

Almost definitely with a reddening face, his hands moved about without him really wanting them to. "I don't think I could effectively describe how rotten I was and goddammit, YOU were the one I was the shittiest to! All the worse that we're the only ones we've had for twelve years and I just WALKED AWAY cuz whoop-dee-frickin'-doo, why the hellz not-!"

Whatever skepticism or disgust or what-have-you Michael's expression held was immediately thrown away. He mimicked Jeremy's defensive hands despite them being defensive for a different reason. He seemed to more be defending Jeremy than he was himself. 

And, well, Jeremy's attempts to keep him on the other side of the room failed, so yay. And his louder volume was only making his headache worse, so double yay. Michael was in the empty chair next to his bed in all but a few seconds. Understandable if he was basically living in that seat for who knows how long, hours maybe. "Heyheyhey, it's ok, dude! It's fine, really."

Jeremy made a face at him, hands dropping to his thighs. How could he just say that? "Yeah, ok, except for the fact that nothing I did was fine. Nothing I said was fine. Nothing about-" Some weird gesture. "THAT was fine. You canNOT bullshit me and say that anything I did while SQUIPped was ok!"

"Woah ok, dude, chill!"

Jeremy flinched. That word was, uh, kinda ruined for him now. 

And of course, amazing, observant, always-aware-of-Jeremy's-mental-state-in-a-borderline-creepy-way-but-not-quite-cuz-this-is-his-best-friend-we're-talking-about Michael, noticed him flinch and his expression shift uncomfortably. He seemed to make a face that wondered if he had said something wrong, which, well, he kinda did. Not intentionally! Because how would he know?

"Ptht, hey," Rich whispered from his bed with a worried grimace. "Poor choithe of wordth." He cringed. 

Michael looked about ready to question that. But then, the realization. "Oh, sorry." He'd directed the 'oh' at Rich and the 'sorry' at Jeremy, seeming to be internally smacking himself. "What I mean is, calm down before you make someone cry." He hastily corrected himself, tacking on an unsure smile to lighten the mood, or, something. "And by someone, I mean you. Stop before you make yourself cry."

Jeremy was going to deny any possible tears he could spill, but instead scrubbed weakly at his eyes after a trembling moment. "Guh, too late..." He halfheartedly complained, hiding as much of his face as his not-quite fists would allow. No tears had trailed down his face yet, but he wanted to keep it that way.

Why did he always have to be the emotional one?

Michael gave a little chuckle, fond in a way. "On a cheerier note, you look like hell." He said with the same in-a-way fondness. Jeremy held back a groan. "Just got back..." He replied, a little raspy. "Whatever necromancer you hired really half-assed their job, why were you that desperate?"

Michael scoffed in an over-exaggerated way. "You can't get rid of me that easily." He said defiantly. "It's gonna take a lot to drag me awayyy from yooou."

Jeremy simply couldn't help the smile stretching over his face. "There's nothing that a hundred men or more could ever dooo." He didn't sound that good singing at the moment. But then again, neither did Michael. So they were both not trying. 

"I left my braiiins down in Aaafricaaa!" The added third voice was enough send them all into a snicker fit. "Love that we all went for the wrong wordth." Rich said. 

"Same."

Jeremy subsided his loopy chuckles with a breathy sigh. "It's kinda funny that we were trying to overthrow evil computers one minute and then singing misheard song lyrics the next." He shook his head at nothing. "Today's been so weird."

Silence fell over the other two teens in the room. One of them (unclear which one) cleared their throat after a short moment. "Yyyeah, 'today'." If Rich were physically capable of using air quotes, he would have. 

And, you know, that was unsettling. 

"...what day is it?" Jeremy asked quietly, suddenly afraid. How intense could The Play have been that he would be unconscious longer than a few hours or so? Rich looked around the room and hummed in thought. "Thurthday." He finally said. 

The ball of dread in Jeremy's chest fell away. "Yeah, so today-" But his roommate didn't laugh off him believing that he'd actually slept longer than twenty-four hours like it was a joke. Neither did his best friend. 

Which could mean...

"What's the date?" He directed it at the teen he'd known and trusted longer, hoping his slower speed in asking would put across the point that he was serious. Michael sucked on the inside of his cheek, eyes dragging over everything in the room except Jeremy. He wet his lips for a half second. "November nineteenth."

"I've been asleep for a week?! Ow!" Jeremy clutched at his head in regret. "Ow, why did I say that loud? I'm stupid... God, and I have all that work to make up too, shit." Rich scoffed to indicate an incoming one-upping. "Keep talkin', Heere. I gotta make up three timeth ath much ath you do."

"Me too!" Michael said cheerily before the true meaning of his claim caught up with him. "Sooo don't ask for my help."

That. That right there is high schooler and probably college student culture. You care less about your own health than you care about the work you have to do in school. Because whatever gods are out there know that missing classes makes doing assignments a bazillion times more difficult. A lot of the reason that students go to school sick! They'd rather suffer for seven hours than have to do extra work when they're well again! 

Well, at least Jeremy knew a few other people from his classes. Maybe he could ask them for help, assuming they'd want to talk to him after the brainwashing incident surrounding The Play. "Eh, I was always support player anyway." The boy mumbled, nursing the side of his head in his hand. 

"Speaking of, you're um..." Michael butt in before he thought over his words and rolled his eyes at himself. "At the risk of sounding cheesy, you're..." Uncertainty crept into his voice. "Player Two again, right?"

'Player Two,' Jeremy can never get enough of that nickname. 

But hell if he deserves the title and the warm fuzzies that come from it. 

"I don't blame you for not thinking so." Jeremy partially slurred as guilt began to form in place of the warm fuzzies. "After all the shit I put you through, I'm surprised you still even wanna talk to me."

Michael hummed as his mouth pressed into a firm line. "You were kinda just pretending I wasn't there for the most part. I don't know if I'd consider that a lot of shit."

"Whatever, I still feel guilty." The other boy half-snapped before cringing at his past self. "And I'd said before that I wouldn't abandon you and I did! I left you behind and that was probably the dickiest move I could've pulled cuz it's an effed up world and-" Don't cry don't cry don't cry. Who cares if your voice is raspy, at least you're not bawling like a baby. "If life's a two-player game, I wanna do co-op."

Who cares that that sounds infinitely cheesy, it's true. 

"Aaaawwww." Rich cooed teasingly. Shit, now Jeremy'll never hear the end of his embarrassing crush from him. Whatever, it's not the worst thing that Rich has done. Michael put a hand to his heart and wiped a fake tear. "That is literally the sappiest thing you've said since ninth grade. Possibly ever."

Jeremy tried for exasperation, but his next statement probably ended up sounding more thick and whiney than he'd prefer. "Do I look like I give two shits?"

"You look like you need a hug."

"AAAAWWWW!" Rich tried again, louder. He winced immediately after, his own headache probably catching up with him. The other bedridden boy rolled his eyes. "Oh shut up, Richard." The burn victim opened one eye and scoffed. "Make me, Tallasth." He taunted, wiggling his eyebrows. 

Jeremy stuck his tongue out, pointing a look at him. 

"Oh tho that'th how you're gonna pway? Not even gonna fwip me off?" Rich baby-talked. 

That stupid baby-talking...

Though it probably validated and continued making him look like a fussy little kid, Jeremy crossed his arms, face almost definitely bright pink. He opted to not look at Rich, but in Michael's direction instead. He attempted to keep his eyes downcast for the most part, but gave into temptation and glanced up at his best friend. 

He couldn't tell if that was a mistake or not. 

Michael was giving him a crooked smile, sympathetic in a way. Damn heart-melting as hell, perfect, bastard piece of heaven... "D'ya need a hug?"

Pouting, Jeremy gave the tiniest nod he could muster. 

Michael rolled his eyes, still smiling that infuriatingly charming, perfect closed-mouth smile. "C'mere, sap."

Jeremy scooted closer to the edge of the bed, leaning into Michael as he brought his arms around him. The embrace was warm, gentle and familiar, and even that was enough for Jeremy to curl up a little more. Maybe he was more hugging Michael's arm than he was hugging Michael himself, but he didn't really care. 

Once again, he was getting a hug he didn't deserve from the best friend he didn't deserve. 

The best friend he didn't deserve stayed by his side in the hospital for a week. One. Full. Week. Refused to leave unless he absolutely had to. Only got up to use the bathroom twice. Maybe. And it was the worst when Jeremy was first brought in.

The best friend he didn't deserve was hysterical, there were tears. He was begging to come in with Jeremy. The doctors had to drag him out of the room kicking and screaming. Kicking. And screaming. Rich could've been exaggerating, that was totally possible, but the point stood. 

Jeremy didn't deserve tears and hysteria and company. He didn't deserve Michael's tears. He didn't deserve Michael's concern. He didn't deserve Michael's company. He didn't deserve Michael. He didn't deserve any of it. But Michael apparently thought differently. Because, well, Rich was witness to Michael giving Jeremy all of those things. 

But hell if he was the kind of person that should get pity and forgiveness when he did something as horrible as trusting a stupid computer over his best friend and his own instincts. Sure, the running theory was always that Jeremy's instincts sucked, but now they don't seem so bad compared to the SQUIP's instincts. Or, whatever you call it with an artificial intelligence. Programming, maybe?

Oh who the hell cares, good riddance to the damn thing. 

"You could use a shower." Michael whispered into Jeremy's hair. A twisted smile pulled at the corners of that very boy's mouth. "You too." He whispered back, snickering stupidly once Michael did so. Again, enjoying the stupid things.

It took a moment for him to realize that the third person in the room was also suppressing amused sounds. "What're you laughing at, Goranski?" Jeremy snapped. Rich shook his head at the pair, impressed in some odd way. "If that'th not true friendship, I dunno what ith."

"No this isn't true friendship, this is fake friendship." Michael said flatly. 

Jeremy reached up and put the back of his hand against Michael's cheek, not quite hard enough to be a slap. Regardless, Michael pulled his face and the rest of himself away. "Aah, cold!" Jeremy snickered unforgivingly, even if he really friggin' missed the hug that'd just now ended. "'S whatcha get, bitch."

Michael buzzed his lips in a fake sigh. "Guess that's what I deserve for messing with a resident short person."

Jeremy rolled his eyes in actual exasperation. "I'm not THAT short. 'M taller than Rich and he's what, five-four?"

"Five-five." Rich corrected. 

"Close enough, I got like two inches on him."

"Yeah, but I'm not gonna call Rich out because I know that he could easily turn me inside out." The tallest quipped matter-of-factly. The shortest nodded along in confirmation. "He'th not wrong." He said wisely. 

Jeremy often saw pictures on the Internet talking about how you shouldn't mess with a short girl because she can and will beat the shit out of you. That definitely applied to short guys too. In remembering this passing thought, his expression spread into a cocky smirk. He rested his chin on one of his hands, propping his elbow on his knee. "Fear us, we're closer to hell."

Now. 

It took a second. 

But they got the joke. 

Both of their faces underwent that slow realization transformation. Michael's face went the more - well, not disturbed, but kinda - route while Rich's took on a more delighted look. "Bruh, I would totally high-five you if I could!" He called out to Jeremy, filling him with satisfaction. 

Michael then nodded, impressed. "Well played, young padowan."

"We're the same age."

"Shh."

"Plot twitht, Jeremy ith older than you."

"No actually." Michael dropped his Jedi Master character and pretended to be an arrogant and cocky asshole. "I take pride in the fact that I, Michael Mell, am indeed older, than Jeremy Heere." Jeremy rolled his eyes (you know, again, he's been doing a lot of that), not really finding it in himself to truly be annoyed. "Only by like, seventeen hours."

"Nineteen, you uncultured swine!" Michael dropped the Arrogant and Cocky Asshole character and pointed an accusing finger at his friend. "We were still born on different days." Rich snorted, shaking his head at the two. "You guyth are thuch nerdth." He may have mumbled something along the lines of 'you're perfect for each other' after that, but you didn't hear it from me. 

Jeremy shrugged. "Prefer to think of us as geeks."

"What'th the differenthe?"

"Geeks are 'may the force be with you' and nerds are 'may the mass times acceleration be with you.'"

Rich - once again - snorted, arching a wry eyebrow. Heheh, a wrybrow. "May the what what what?"

"Cuz mass times acceleration equals force so it's a nerdier way of saying the Star Wars line and- goddammit, I just proved your point..."

So that's why the SQUIP told him to 'never say that out loud to anyone ever.'

Michael gasped dramatically. "Oh my God, my best friend is a nerd!" Jeremy took on the same scandalized tone. "Oh my God, my best friend is a geek!"

"Whatever shall we do?"

Another shrug. "I dunno, break up?"

After a moment of pretending to be in thought, hand rubbing at his chin and all, Michael stood up and started his journey to the door. "Well it was nice knowin' ya."

"NopleasecomebackIwaskidding!" Jeremy blurted out in a panic, hands flying up again as if to stop his friend from leaving, not being able to handle the thought of Michael not being in his life.

Again. 

Because how horrible would it be for his best friend to walk out of his life over a passing joke that meant nothing?

Michael immediately stopped, turned back to Jeremy, blinked, stared, made a vague shrugging gesture. "So was I..." He eventually said, walking that line between comforting and slightly condescending. "I was gonna come back."

It dawned upon Jeremy how irrational it was for him to think that Michael would seriously end their friendship over something as silly as a joke about 'breaking up.' He hid his face behind his hands in embarrassment and probably something else too. "Don't listen to me, I'm emotionally damaged. I can only hope that... you're not beyond repair."

Michael sank back into his chair with a quizzical look, a chair that he'd apparently been sitting in for not a few hours, but a whole. Week. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" Jeremy repeated back incredulously, groaning at himself. "God, where do I start?" Where else does he start but at the beginning. "Disappeared at the mall when we first got the damn dysfunctional toaster, didn't see you at all the next day, gave you the cold shoulder all the way up until Halloween, wrongly accused you of falsehood ON Halloween when you were blatantly trying to help me, called you a loser, walked away like my shit don't stink, drove you away from coming to school because of it- like how do you not hate me?! I hate me! More than I usually do!"

He winced at his own raised voice. He deserved the splitting headache. He deserved a migraine and worse. "And that's saying something..." The boy added on. "Pretty sure you're the only other person that could possibly hate me more than I hate myself. Even then, I'd still probably beat you. Because, goddamn, overrated Bluetooth decided I'm better off without you, which- spoiler alert, I'm not." Jeremy was partially aware that he was rambling, but that's what happens when he lets his emotions and self-deprecation take the wheel. 

"But you're better off without me because I'm the literal worst in every possible way, I was selfish and stupid and blinded by superficial shit that won't even matter in two years, and I was doing all this because I'm a stupid little twink that couldn't handle the harsh and inconvenient reality of being in love with-"

"You know what, you're right." Michael suddenly interrupted, startling the other boy. Surely this would be what made him understand that he should find people better than Jeremy. "You're absolutely right. You did something really shitty. You pushed me to the side and pretended I didn't exist." He gestured to himself. "And I'm not gonna lie, it hurt. It hurt a lot." 

Jeremy should have been expecting this scolding-friendship-break-up combo thing. It was a long time coming. He would've done the same to himself. He deserved this. He deserved to be abandoned. He deserved a taste of his own medicine. He didn't deserve Michael. 

His soon-to-be-ex-friend continued on with gradually increasing intensity. "It was absolutely miserable being alone all those weeks. It was the worst I'd felt in shit-knows-how-long. I should be salty with you. I should be infuriated with you. I should never wanna see you again. I should be holding a grudge. I should hate your guts." 

Jeremy waited in dreadful anticipation for Michael to end it. To wrap his rant up by twisting the knife in the guilt-ridden boy's chest. To say that it was over. To walk away as if twelve years together meant nothing like Jeremy had. He waited, but Michael was silent for a few long seconds before shrugging. "But I don't. I don't hate you. I'm not holding it against you. And we can move past it."

 

That. 

That was unexpected. 

 

Jeremy didn't have any of his mind to keep his lip from jutting out in a pout. This guy was just further proving that he didn't deserve his amazing personality and countless other amazing shit. "You're too good for this world." If it was even possible, he had even less of his mind to not let that slip out. 

The shortest teen (who was almost forgotten about until now) wiggled his eyebrows, borderline goofily. "Ith that to thay that you thee him ath a god walking among mere mortalth?" Jeremy shot him a scowl with an ever-flushing face. He could already tell Rich was going to be more of a pain in the ass than normal. 

Without even looking in his direction, Michael reached over and pulled the curtain on Jeremy's roommate to block him away. "And we'll just pretend that there's nothing more here than a simple sheet of fabric."

"I can thtill hear you, ya know."

"Shut up, curtains don't talk."

"Thethe oneth do!"

Heheh, talking curtains... On second thought, that would be kinda creepy. Especially if they were shower curtains. Oh God, that would be traumatizing. You're in the there washing your bits and the curtain is just like 'hey did you know Aperture Science used to be Aperture Fixtures and they manufactured shower curtains?!?!?! Ain't that a wild concept!!!' Yeah, no thanks. 

"Hey, quick question."

Huh? Oh yeah, curtains don't talk, that was Michael. 

"Shoot." Jeremy mumbled. 

His (apparently not ex) friend opened his mouth to speak, but didn't for a short moment. Instead, he bit down on his lip as if to bite back something wrong. Quickly though, he allowed himself to voice his thoughts the way he intended to. "What made you give Christine the Red Dew?"

The Red Dew...

The Red...

Ah, that's right, that's what'd happened. Christine had said she loved Jeremy and they almost kissed. Except that he'd had a half-baked plan that he was making up as he went. The SQUIP couldn't prevent him from following through with a plan if he didn't have one fleshed out. It was all heat of the moment actions. He told the girl to drink the soda and she did. She'd agreed to doing whatever the boy wanted in her SQUIPped state. 

SQUIPped. 

Jeremy gave a single-syllable laugh, a little cockier than he meant, but whatever. "That was not Christine."

"How could you tell?" Michael followed up, not sounding curious as much as he sounded serious. Even that word seemed a little strong. 

But Jeremy knew the answer, it didn't have to be pried out of him. "Anyone that knows her knows she can't talk to someone for more than a minute without her hands flying all over the place."

"Oh my God, that'th tho true!" The talking curtain flew open to reveal the talking mound of burnt flesh behind it. "Her handth are alwayth doin' thomethin'! Thinthe she'th thuper ADD, she'th gotta be picking at nail polish or fidgeting or thomething!"

"Exactly!" Jeremy even had a testimonial to back him up. "She flaps when she's excited, she's waving here, there, everywhere, all around, she's doing the Macarena, Patty Cake, the YMCA, she's doing something!" He leaned in and pointed at Michael conspiratorially, his lower tone matching this. "Her hands didn't leave mine for a second."

Jeremy's testimonial feigned a shocked gasp and began crudely imitating the X-Files opening theme song, more commonly known as the Illuminati music from those various Vines and memes. 

Something flashed in Michael's eyes as he blinked, his reaction somewhat vague. He wasn't overtly dumbfounded or impressed, but there was definitely something there. "Jeremy, you just blew my goddamn mind." He eventually said plainly. 

"Oh he blew it, did he?" The mound of burnt flesh chimed in again, more suggestively this time. And frankly, Jeremy was already getting tired of the obvious teasing. Yeah, he had dug his own grave with his longing 'I wish' when answering Rich's question about he and Michael being A Thing, but he's allowed to complain. Sue him. "Rich, could you, I don't know, not?"

"My mind will never not be in the gutter!" Rich proclaimed in a very 'no regrets' kind of way, tacking on an evil laugh for good measure. 

Dork. 

"SO!" Michael cut in, shoving one of his hands into his hoodie pocket to shuffle around for something. "While I'm thinking about it and before I overthink what I'm doing or forget,"

"Awethome thegue, dude, you're a mathter."

"The Midsummer's cast pestered me into giving you this." Jeremy didn't have any time to ask Michael what This was before he pulled Whatever This Was out of his pocket and blew it into his face, which Rich snorted at. Jeremy startled back and blinked a few times as little pink somethings fluttered around him. They looked like pieces of paper? Cut out into the shape of...

Hearts?

 

...

 

Does this is confession...?

 

"Heart attack." Michael explained with hopeful jazz hands. 

Ah. 

Clever. 

Jeremy peered down at the arts and crafts project littered onto his lap. Each heart had a name on it, each written in purple ink by a different person. There were several more, but these were the names that were facing him, if at a slight angle. 

 

Christine 

Jared

Audrey

Jenna 

Sammy

Charlie

Jake

Dalton

Madeline

Rich

Zoe

Janis

Chloe 

Jonas

Phineas

Brooke

Charity

Kimberly

 

Michael

 

Maybe Jeremy was projecting and/or crazy, but that last heart seemed slightly bigger than the rest. Probably projecting, definitely crazy. 

Heart thoroughly warmed by the thoughtfulness of the students, most of which he'd never even talked to, Jeremy pouted up at Michael once more. "Whose idea was this?" He asked through a smile. 

Michael feigned offense by bringing a hand up to his heart. "I am hurt." He lied, faking betrayal. "Do you seriously doubt that I'm creative enough to come up with-"

"Chrithtiiiiine'th." Rich sang mockingly. This would be the one time where Jeremy would believe his word over Michael's since he had seen his name on a heart as well. Michael, done pretending to be pretentious or whatever, then pretended to be reluctant and exasperated. "Christiiiiine's." He agreed with - once again - feigned reluctance. 

"Chrithtiiiiine Canigula'th, Chrithtiiiiine Canigula'th idea!"

"Ok, thank you for rubbing it in." Michael said flatly. And honestly, Jeremy would be lying if he said that their banter wasn't entertaining to some degree. It would also be blatantly obvious that he was lying, what with the smile spreading across his face. 

"Any time, brutha'." Rich did his best to shoot finger guns at Michael, who rolled his eyes at him yet again. "Anyway. A heart attack." He said, gesturing at the boy in front of him. "For good ol' Jeremy Is Heere."

Jeremy huffed at him in return. "My middle name's not Is and you know it."

"Yeah, Michael! Obviouthly hith name ith Jeremy Ithn't Heere."

"Jeremy 'Snever Heere."

"Really?"

"Jeremy WillBe Heere." Michael piped up again. 

"Jeremy WontBe Heere." Rich added on smugly. 

"I get that you could both go on all day, but I kindly ask that you don't."

"Jeremy Come Heere."

"Jeremy Cum Heere."

"God- Rich, why?"

"Jeremy 'SaDork Heere."

"Jeremy 'ThanIdiot Heere."

"Now you're just being mean."

"Jeremy Can't Heere!" Michael cheered proudly, finally coming up with a pun that played off of the other definition of hear. This opened up a new door for opPUNtunities. 

Rich grinned. "Jeremy CanNoLonger Heere."

"Oh God..."

"Jeremy Heeres a mockingbird."

"Jeremy Heereth thomething in yonder bush."

"You guys aren't even doing middle names now, ya know."

"Jeremy LostHis Heere-ing."

"Jeremy Ithnt Heere-ing You."

"These like, aren't even clever anymore."

"Jeremy 'SbeingReallyJudgemental Heere." Michael frowned. 

"Jeremy HathADeathWish Heere."

"You played the joke to death, it's old now." Jeremy deadpanned, making the callback to Rich's death pun subtly enough that he apparently hadn't caught it. He'd expected he and Michael to continue going back and forth with forced puns when another voice cut in to stop them from doing such. 

"Wow, Jer. You look like he-"

"I'm VERY aware!" He interrupted them before they could tell him what he already knew. 

"Now, who told you it was ok to talk to your old man like that?"

Wait. 

Jeremy's old...

What?

Jeremy decided to grace the doorway with his gaze, more than a little surprised to indeed see his dad, completely and utterly...

 

Clothed. 

 

"You're... Wearing pants..." Jeremy mumbled in diluted shock before overplaying that shock for comedic purposes. After a Pause For Dramatic Effect, of course. "Who are you and what have you done with my father?!"

Mr. Heere caught on with a chuckle and played along. "You see, I am an imposter and I kidnapped him with the intentions of taking him to Kohl's for trousers." Gasp. This man is truly despicable. "He's had many an existential crisis due to his son sleeping an envy-inducing amount. Because of that, I'm gonna make an effort to be a better dad than he."

Despite the stupid start of the story, it took a heartwarming turn. One that the boy didn't ever expect to hear in his life. "You are?"

The man hummed in the affirmative. "On that note, you're grounded."

Jeremy gaped, eyebrows shooting up. "I am?!" Did he hear that right? Is he hallucinating? Did his dad just say that he's the G word?! Oh my God, YES! RETRIBUTION! Mr. Heere stopped mid-confirmation, squinting at his son in confusion. "Why are you smiling? You're being punished."

The grounded boy nodded excitedly. "Yeah! I know!"

Achievement Unlocked: FINALLY Do Something That Gets You In Trouble!

Michael brought a hand up to his mouth to snicker behind, no doubt finding it infinitely funny for Jeremy to finally get the punishment he'd been waiting on for upwards of four years. He'd complained to him about it before, only half-joking when saying that he could probably murder someone and his dad wouldn't bat an eye. 

Rich, however, was staring at Jeremy like he had a huge cockroach on his face. That, or like he was unironically threatening a teddy bear at knifepoint in exchange for unicorn scales or some shit. "I don't think I've ever theen thomeone tho happy to be grounded, congratu-frickin'-lationth, you have my metaphorical applauthe."

Jeremy was completely ok with getting the weird look. He was going to own it, enjoy the satisfaction of being the only one who's ever been happy to be punished by his parent. He'd basically been waiting for a moment like this his entire life, he was going to enjoy it, dammit!

He breathlessly laughed off Rich's comment before turning back up to his father. But his father was kinda tall. And tall was kinda all the way up there. So he fell back in his bed, looking up at his parent and best friend with a stupid grin. As far as Jeremy was concerned, he was on cloud nine. He was on better terms with Michael. His dad grounded him. Rich was bi. And his SQUIP was out of the picture. 

What could be better?

"Michael, why do you smell like weed?" Mr. Heere inquired to that very boy. Said boy's smile faltered the faintest amount as he brought a hand up to tap his chin, trying to come up with a good and believable excuse. "Ya'see, Mr. Heere, the thing with that is-"

"And how would you know what weed smells like?" Jeremy squinted accusingly, speaking a little slower than normal, he blamed it on the painkillers finally kicking in. His dad wasn't expecting the intervention, which showed through on his face. "Well ya'see, the thing with that is-"

"Ha!" The boy lazily flung his hand up to point at Mr. Heere. "Busted, you're grounded for a week!"

"Damn it."

Rich blew out some air from his cheeks. "I can definitely thee where he getth the dorkinesth from." The teen muttered, referring to Jeremy with his eyes. 

Mr. Heere's face became dotted with confusion from mixed messages. "I thought he was a geek." He said. 

"Wait, I thought he was a nerd." Michael chimed in. 

"Wait, I thought I was grounded." Jeremy quipped. 

Two out of the other three people in the room were hit hard by that one, either hiding their face in their arms on Jeremy's bed to laugh in private (Michael) or heartily letting their laughter hang in the air (Mr. Heere.) The only one not outwardly showing his amusement rolled his eyes (again) and snorted (again). "Ok, that wath pretty good." He said reluctantly. 

Michael's shoulders continued to pulsate as a means to show that he had not yet recovered from his best friend's joke, face still hidden behind his arms and amongst Jeremy's bedding. His parent though, was able to sober quicker than him. "I appreciate your enthusiasm, Private, but I do believe that I'm the one that should be making the dad jokes around here."

"By extension, you'd also have to make the dad jokes around Mell and Goranski." Jeremy smirked, pointing at the two respectively. Michael's head snapped up accusingly, glasses askew and hair astray. "What'chu talkin' 'bout, Willis?" He interrogated his friend with a skeptical squint. 

"Nothing that concerns you, Frederic." His aforementioned friend shot back. "Go back to sniffing the linens."

"No."

"Then perish."

Michael gave an offended look before huffing and putting his head back down on the bed. "I've said it before and I'll say it again." Mr. Heere chimed in flatly. "It's like you boys are speaking another language."

"Ich zeige dir eine andere Sprache!" Jeremy said defiantly, pointing up at his father dramatically. The man rolled his eyes and shook his head, both in amusement. "You, my offspring, are a smartass. Also, why are you covered in paper hearts?"

Having almost forgotten that he had been showered in pink confetti, the boy gazed down to see those very shapes. "Cuz Michael gave me a heart attack." He peeped innocently after peering back up. It hadn't quite struck him the romantic implications behind the action. Well, it had when it'd first happened, but the painkillers didn't know that. 

Giving the one who'd been the heart attacker a knowing glance, Mr. Heere quirked an eyebrow. "Oh did he now?" The head that'd once been sniffing linens popped back up. "It was Christine's idea!" Michael protested as he did that thing where you go slightly cross-eyed at the ceiling. An act of exasperation, both real and fake. 

Rich scoffed. "Thayth Mithter I Wath Totally Gonna Take All The Credit Before Rich Interrupted Me." Mr. I Was Totally Gonna Take All The Credit Before Rich Interrupted Me made a noise at him and stuck his tongue out. Classy. 

Bringing his attention to the seemingly only sane one (boy how wrong that was), the man leveled his son with a look he'd never seen. "Who's Christine and why am I only now hearing about her?"

A strange feeling twisted itself in Jeremy's stomach. Or maybe he was hungry. He wanted to say hungry, since there was no real reason for his stomach to twist in knots at the thought of telling his dad about the girl. "It's not a huge deal, she's just someone Rich and I know from The Play." He said, that was all Christine was on the surface. 

Mr. Heere hummed in... What, disbelief? Something else? Weird. "Is this someone you happen to like in a certain way?" Jeremy blinked a couple times at the question, waving his hands in denial. "No, no no, she's barely even my frie-"

"Yes." Michael interrupted. "He is absolutely head over heels for her." Jeremy gave him a weird look for that. There was no way he'd gotten good enough at lying to fool Michael. There was no way he was good at lying, period. 

Rich hummed in that way that implied he knew that Michael was wrong, which, he did. He knew Michael was wrong. Because Jeremy's an idiot that couldn't keep his mouth shut. "No he'th not."

"Would it matter either way?" The idiot cut in before more light could be brought to the subject. In doing this, he was able to remind himself of his own stupidity from the past. Or his SQUIP's stupidity and his own inability to fight back for ninety percent of their showdown, but self-deprecation doesn't listen to reason and logic. "It'd be astounding if she didn't decide to transfer to a different school because of my stupid stunt." Jeremy muttered solemnly. It only made sense. 

Mr. Heere's expression shifted worriedly. "What stunt?" He asked, looking around to the other teens as well to see of they had any helpful insight. "I wouldn't worry about that, Mr. Heere." Michael chuckled out. 

"Then why are you laughing?"

He sighed in reminiscence. "It's just reassuring. He still doesn't know aaanything about girls."

Jeremy pointed an unamused look at him. "Oh and you do? Mr. I Literally Wear My Pride On My Sleeve?"

That one, out of all the quips, made Rich unexpectedly erupt into laughter. "Oh my GOD, he'th on a roll!"

Ha. Goes to show that he has a sense of humor outside of sex jokes and other people's misfortune. But wordplay? Not what you'd expect out of five feet and five inches of teenage bully. Wait, no, that was SQUIPped Rich. UnSQUIPped Rich? Who knows? Maybe all the ladies and dudes will get to know the real Richard Goranski. Who IS the real Richard Goranski? Will the real Richard Goranski please stand up? Oh hey, Eminem is dead now... Huh...

No one could hear the set of shoes tapping against the linoleum floor in the hallway over the burn victim's laughter, so it was definitely an experience to see a head suddenly and silently peek in without any real warning.

This woman - looking to be around Jeremy's father's age - wore a scrub with her aging blonde hair tied back in a short ponytail and a puzzled look. (It's almost like she works here or something.) Her gaze landed on Rich, whose laughter was dying down into mere chuckles now, before her face grew into a knowing smile. "Ah, I knew it had to be you laughing, Rich."

Now making himself aware of her presence, he brought a hand to his heart. "You know me tho well, your medical-nesth." Rich fawned in mock-gratitude. "Much better than all thothe other nurtheth aideth. You, Heidi, are my favorite."

Hm, quite informal indeed. There was very much a piece of the puzzle Jeremy wasn't getting. A chunk of stuff happening that he wasn't aware of. A reasonable assumption given that he was ASLEEP for a week. Blinking lazily, he found it a good idea to ask for someone to fill him in. 

"Greetings, program."

That's...

Not how you do that. 

The woman's head turned in his direction, her face lighting up. "And Jeremy's awake! Took ya long enough." She joked, giving a short laugh. "I'm kidding, it's reassuring to know you're ok. Not only for us, but for your friends and loved ones as well." Michael nodded toward Jeremy in confirmation with a 'she's right' look. 

He was getting a hint of a protective mother vibe from - Heidi, right? Yeah, name tags don't lie - Heidi. Which wasn't a bad thing. Just a thing. "You know, watching over someone in a coma isn't even in my job description and yet I couldn't help but feel it was my responsibility to check up on you whenever I did the same for Rich." Case in point, what she just said. 

Rich gave a short, smug nod. "I made a joke that you were her long lotht thon one time." The nurses aid chuckled in reminiscence. "That he did, though I'm sure I would've known if I'd had a second child." She chided jokingly. 

This lady? This lady ain't half bad. Jeremy didn't fully know how involved with his, eh, coma, she was, but got the impression that she did a good job at however much she was doing. Even if it wasn't what took up most of her time. Maybe she wasn't hardly involved at all. But he'd like to live under the assumption that he was in good care within her hands and not some person he didn't know or trust. Of course he hadn't met her until now, but details, details. 

Jeremy sorta began zoning out. It was hard to process a lot of the questions his father was asking the woman about release stuff and something or other. Maybe she said something about how it wasn't in her power to decide that stuff and that she'd have to go ask someone? Or Jeremy was crazy. Oh wait, we've ready determined that he was, never mind. False alarm. Jeremy is crazy 2015 confirmed. Third times the confirmation. Or. Something. 

God, he is really out of it at the moment. He was half tempted to join in on Michael and Rich's Making Dumb Faces At Each Other contest thing. Or at least that's how he interpreted whatever they were doing.  

"Thank you for everything, Ms. Hansen." Mr. Heere apparently concluded. Jeremy was confused about the passage of time. Heidi (Hansen, as we're now aware) waved a hand at his formality. "Oh please, Heidi's just fine."

"Well Heidi, thank you again for all your hard work."

"It's what I do." She replied sincerely on her way out the door and down the hall.  And... I dunno, there was something kinda rom-commy about the whole thing from the boy's perspective. From what he was not-zoned-our enough to see at least. 

And so, Jeremy decided to be a smartass. 

Because that didn't take much mental capacity. 

"So." He smirked up to his smiling father with his chin on his hand. 

"So?"

"Are you friends with Heidi? Do you liiiiike her? Is she your giiiiirlfriend?" The man's son cooed obnoxiously, causing the other boys in the room to suppress snickers. They knew where he was going with this. 

Mr. Heere gave all of the teens strange looks for the implications behind their mocking. "Stop assuming our acquaintanceship goes any further than knowing each other."

"You were literally doing the exact same thing with me and Christine!"

The man didn't have a comeback for that.

Rich clicked his tongue. "He'th got a point, my man." He said in a singsong way. Mr. Heere hummed to fill the space as he though up a response. "Touché." It ended up being. "But you have less experience than I. You do not fully know all that you need to in order to be a functioning man and such."

"Where is this going?"

"Irrelevant."

A scoff. "Oh no, please, enlighten me." Jeremy drawled sarcastically, though he was curious about pointers from humans for once. "How does one speak to a female?"

"What about me?" Came a voice from the doorway. 

No, it wasn't a super cliche moment with theatrical timing like when Rich and Jeremy were talking about Michael. And by extension, no, it wasn't Christine standing in the doorway. 

It was Jenna. 

Wearing her backpack and her signature purple zip-up hoodie. 

Apprehensive for a moment, one of the boys greeted her. "Hey."

"Hey." The girl mimicked, nodding toward him. "Nice to not come back to you being a vegetable for once. You look-"

"Like hell?" Jeremy finished, entirely unamused. 

"I was gonna say shit, but that works too." Smirking, she gestured to the boy covered in pink paper. "I can see Michael completed his mission and gave you your heart attack." Jenna wiggled her eyebrows at Michael for all but a second. Perhaps subtly making fun of him for similar reasons as Rich and Mr. Heere. Unlikely, but possible. 

Through a sigh of what could've been exasperation, Michael hid behind what could've been a facepalm with what could've been a rose tint dusting his cheeks. He knew it was pointless to pawn it off as Christine's idea by now. Jeremy didn't know why it mattered so much that it wasn't his brain child though. Still, he smiled fondly at his friend. "Yup. He did."

"Nice."

"Lemme guess, you've dropped by every other day since-"

"The Play." The girl finished, pointing at Rich with her head. "You're lucky the schedule already lined up with me seeing this idiot."

"Hey!"

Jenna gently shushed the boy. "Hey, it's ok. I can call you an idiot cuz I'm an idiot too." She pointed at Jeremy and Michael with her thumb. "Same with these idiots."

The idiots snorted at her bluntness. 

"I mean, you're not wrong." Jeremy admitted. 

Michael sobered from his snickering before leaning toward Jenna in his seat. "Hey, I may be an idiot," He dramatically took off his glasses. "But that doesn't mean I'm stupid." Jeremy suppressed another snort at that. God, he missed Michael. It's not until someone's sense of humor is ripped from your life then hurled at your face that you realize how much you love it. 

The girl held up her hand at the de-spectacled (yes, that's a term now) teen. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Four fingers and a thumb."

After a beat, she dropped her hand and blinked at him. "Ya know for an idiot, you're quite the smartass." Chuckling in confirmation, Michael put his glasses back on. It was impressive that he'd warmed up to Jenna so fast. Granted, their visiting schedules lined up so that they would be in the same room - ...hang on a second, math... - four out of the seven days that Jeremy was in purgatory. (It wasn't really purgatory, but he didn't know what else to call it.)

"By the way," Jenna slid in, sliding her backpack into the crook of her elbow. "Some idiot - me - pitched in a couple dollars to help another idiot - Michael - buy you a gift from the shop down the hall." If the girl could speak in parenthesis, she would be doing quite a bit of it. She took something out of her backpack and tossed it at Jeremy. "So here ya go, Merry Happy Birth-mas."

Still having near damn no hand-eye coordination outside of working an Xbox controller, Jeremy fumbled when catching the something. 

 

He looked down. 

And he saw. 

A goddamn. 

Dolphin. 

Jeremy turned his head up to Michael and gave him The Look. 

You know, The Look. 

A look that says, 'really? Really? Of all things, it just had to be a dolphin? You seriously are not gonna let the joke die, are you? Your commitment is astounding, Michael, really. You're horrible, I love you. I mean I hate you, but God you just- really? You just had to?'

Michael, noticing Jeremy's Look with unforgiving mirth in his face, shot a quick wiggle of his eyebrows at him. Jeremy rolled his eyes and shook his head, sighing through his teeth. "You're the b- worst." His friend quirked an eyebrow at him. "The bworst?"

"You know, the..." The boy averted his gaze, a rosy tint infiltrating his cheeks. "Best-worst."

"Does this mean that I can count on you shoving the dolphin under your bed, forgetting it's there and then selling or chucking it in a couple years?"

"Pff, you kidding? I'm keeping this forever." Jeremy emphasized his point by hugging the stuffed toy close. He wouldn't admit that he was starting to get a bit jealous of Rich's stuffed bear from, does that nearby card say Jake? Is it from Jake? Oof, there's a no homo joke there. Especially considering the bear has a heart. Ha. 

"Thooo, whatcha gonna name it, Tallasth?"

Jeremy squinted at Rich. "Name it?" Was that necessary? Was that really required?

"Duh! Thith ith your child now, you can't jutht not name your child!"

"I tried, doctors wouldn't let me." Mr. Heere joked. The boy chortled at his father's comment (and the implications that Rich saw his bear as his child, hA) before turning the toy over between his fingertips to look it in its beady, black eyes. "Well, since Jenna helped Michael adopt it, maybe..."

"Aww, are you gonna name the dolphin after me?" Jenna put one hand to her heart before flaunting the other one in mock-flattery. "You sly dog, flattery will get you everywhere." Jeremy shot her a crooked smile. "I was thinking more along the lines of... Mary Jane."

If a single passing comment from the infamous Halloween 2015 video was to be believed, Jenna would appreciate the name about as much as Michael would. Judging by her expression shifting to The Look (you know, the 'really?' look), she did. 

"Ooh," The unknowingly oblivious Mr. Heere began. "Like Spider-Man's girlfriend, right?" The other teens in the room snickered along to a joke that the man didn't get. "Yeah, something like that." Jeremy nodded along. 

That technically wasn't wrong, but not necessarily what he was going for. Though it was a good coverup for his actual reasoning behind the name. For one, Mary Jane was a nickname for weed, which everyone else in the room clearly understood and had a hard time hiding their amusement over. For another, the name shared Michael and Jenna's initials. (Not the same thing as naming the toy after them, but good enough.)

"Tho wait." Rich said, pointing to all those in the room whenever he referred to them. "If Jeremy claimth that Jenna adopted MJ there, who ith now hith child, then what'th hith relation to Jenna?"

Heheheheh, that would make the bear both Rich and Jake's child. Aaah, gay. 

All jokes aside, that was an excellent question. Now blame it on the painkillers or whatever, but Jeremy found it an alright idea to give the scenario some form of not-quite logic. And people at school made friend families all the time! It was a normal thing that normal kids did! Jeremy is normal for thinking of doing it!

That is, if weird is the new normal. Which it definitely is. 

"Dad?" The man brought his attention to the one who'd called for it. "Permission to adopt Jenna as my... Platonic mom?"

Arching an eyebrow at his biological son, Mr. Heere turned back to who could potentially call him her platonic son. Jenna, not having expected to be interrogated with his eyes by a proposal she didn't even make, darted her own eyes between Jeremy and the boy's dad. She grinned sheepishly, though a kind of sheepish that was better at playing it cool. Not an awkward sheepish like what Jeremy was known for.

It was obviously a joking sort of sheepish, there was no pressure for Jenna anyway. It could and probably would be written off as the joke it was regardless of Mr. Heere's response. Whose response ended up being a hand waved dismissively and, "Ah, what the hell."

The girl grinned for real that time. "Awesome. Wish I could stay for the family reunion, but lunch only lasts so long, meaning I gotta skedaddle."

That's right, it was still Thursday, Jenna had to go to school. She had her backpack on and all. A little sad to lose the company, Jeremy waved her goodbye. "Don't crash on your way back to school."

Jenna pouted, giving a disappointed whine. "Dammit, you're no fun."

"You're just now realizing this?" The boy shot back. 

The girl stuck her tongue out at him as she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. 

From then on, Jeremy didn't have any complaints about the rest of his known visit. He was becoming all loopy and stuff from the apparent painkillers. But what he could remember was nice! He joked with Rich. He was pretty sure he was joking with his dad. And he was able to admire Michael without any suspicions being raised due to being drugged. Jeremy was totally doing heart eyes and he was none the wiser, hehah. 

\---

Surprisingly, masturbating wasn't the first thing that Jeremy decided to do with no SQUIP to tell him otherwise. 

Well, no, he did try a little bit of that, but he'd rather not think about that at the moment. 

It wasn't the first thing he did when he (very reluctantly) got ready for school on Friday. Willingly! It wasn't because his computer was being slow, he hadn't even turned it on since getting released from Beth Israel. Which was actually in the early hours of that morning, again, after an incident he'd rather not remember. 

Instead, he was typing stuff into the notes on his phone. 

 

_**"You gotta but her a rose, compliment her on her clothes" -Dad** _

_**"Say you appreciate that she's smart" -Michael** _

_**"Nah, man, you tell her that she excites you sexually ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)" -Rich** _

 

Was Jeremy actually going to use Rich's advice when talking to Christine? No. Of course not. Aside from it being a lie, it was just a gross thing to do. 

He was doing something else with the information. Turning it into something better than Rich being a dirty person. Sure, it may have been another mere impulse project, but he was having fun so it didn't matter. 

Although, all good things must come to an end. And while Jeremy was still doing a good thing, it was a thing that had a purpose other than simply passing the time. No, this thing actually held some sort of significance in society. 

 

Nov 20, 2015, 6:35 AM

 

Jeremy:  
<I know this is a better conversation to have in real life than over text but I just wanna address this now so I don't chicken out later today. Brooke, I am beyond sorry for being a total douchebag on Halloween. I know this apology is a million years late but there was kinda a lot of stuff going on and trust me, I've slapped myself for not bringing it up sooner. (Slapped was almost scalped?? Heh always be aware of autocorrect. Anyway.) You're not just some sexy dog that I can kick around or whatever, you didn't deserve to be caught up in the middle of my teenage angst bullshit. I wish there was a good way to explain what was going on in my brain at the time but... There isn't. Dunno how much you know about SQUIPs? But they had a lot to do with the stupidity. I know that's not a valid excuse, I'm not saying it is. Just think it'd be best if you weren't left completely in the dark. Aaaaand I'ma just say another quick sorry for being a douchenozzle before this text gets more rambley than it already is, I'm an awkward mess inside and outside of reality. So. Uh here are cats to make it better cuz they have better social skills than I ever will<

<https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4IP_E7efGWE>

I totally didn't melt at these what>

 

And without giving himself any time to overthink the consequences of his actions, Jeremy hit send. 

He exited out of the conversation before he could think of more to say and start spamming Brooke with messages and apologies. That probably wouldn't be the best look. 

With that, he continued about his morning like he normally would. You know, without the jacking off part. Though he knew he wouldn't be seeing his dad that morning. Not because he was going to work, not yet anyway. 

Nah, he'd said on the way back to the hospital that he was physically and emotionally drained so he was going to sleep for as long as his body allowed him to. 

Which Jeremy found completely fair. 

He probably would've done the same thing. 

He also found it as an excuse to probably-maybe-hopefully hang out with Michael. Cuz dammit, it was a LOOONG time since he'd gotten to do that! But he would totally respect his friend's boundaries if he wasn't ready for that kind of thing yet, since Jeremy had been the literal worst for about two and a half months. So he'd talk to Michael at lunch about it. Maybe. Hopefully. 

So without caring or even thinking about whether he should take the bus to school or walk instead, he grabbed a Pop Tart for the road and headed for the bus stop. He didn't have to overthink it or anything! He didn't find it in himself to care if he looked like a lame junior in the middle of the bus! He got on and life continued like normal. And Jeremy was able to convince himself that the day might be kinda-sorta-maybe ok-ish. 

Physics though, he was dreading. 

Don't get him wrong! He wanted to make amends with Brooke, he was just getting anxious about the whole thing. Like, what if she found Jeremy insensitive for apologizing over text and not in person even though he'd addressed it? What if she got emotional in the middle of class and made a scene that he wouldn't know how to quiet because there was nothing to tell him how? What if things got physical? Jeremy couldn't defend himself! He was the twiggiest twig to have ever twigged! And that girl is deceptively strong! What if-

He walked in the class. 

Only to find. 

That Brooke was sitting at Jeremy's table in the seat next to his. 

Holding her phone up to him. 

With their text conversation open. 

Showing the wall of text he'd sent. 

Waiting. 

And all he did. 

Was freeze. 

Well, my dudes, Jeremy would be screwed. 

Or so he assumed. 

"Uh... B-before you kill me, I-"

Brooke tittered and shook her head before he could finish, setting her phone on the table face-down. "You're not a douchebag, Jeremy." She said with sincere sweetness. 

This scenario, he decided though, was much better than any of the others he was planning for. Less afraid of being ripped to literal shreds, Jeremy sank into his seat next to the blonde. "Yeah, well, I feel like one." He mumbled, dropping his bag to the ground next to him. 

"And the fact that you do proves that you aren't really." Her next statement came out matter-of-factly. "A real douchebag wouldn't feel bad for what they did and then use a cat video as an apology. Adorable, by the way. Not just the cats but how you-" Random gesture. "I dunno, it was just really cute."

With more of the built-up tension from envisioning unfortunate outcomes slipping away, Jeremy was able to lend a weak smile. "I was hoping you'd like it. Brooke, I- again, there's no excuse for treating you like I did."

"And that's ok." Brooke said gently, earnestly. "Admitting that you did something wrong already makes you better than all my other exes." By now was when her smile began to falter and her gaze began to droop. "I still might be a little bummed about... Us, but I'll get over it soon enough."

And there's the guilt knife wiggling around again and making Jeremy cringe. "You shouldn't have to get over it though." The blonde peered back up at him curiously. "You should have a boyfriend or girlfriend or whatever that isn't going to use you for something greater. And- I wasn't using you for Chloe, I- well, i-it's complicated, there was a-"

The girl put a hand up to stop him from rambling. (Thank God.) "I know." She said. "I don't really know how I know, but, I do. It kinda..." Vague gesture, followed by a hopeful smile. "Makes sense, somehow. I understand, so you don't have to worry or explain or whatever. It's ok, I forgive you."

But still, the guilt persisted. It may have only made sense to her because of some kind of sonic frequency bullshit that Jeremy still didn't have the mental capacity to understand or even want to understand. And that wasn't within Brooke's control. It may not have been entirely within Jeremy's control either, but he's still gonna be mad at himself. "Still, I'm sorry for being an assho-"

Brooke brought her hands to her heart and gave a pouty smile. "Oh my God, stop apologizing. You're making my heart melt."

"So-" The boy stopped himself, sighing. The blonde suppressed a giggle at his disappointment in himself. "Telling me to stop saying sorry is just setting me up for failure."

Brooke tittered once more, less obvious this time though. "Just say 'ok', Jeremy."

Damn, that is a really good way around apologizing for apologizing. Why didn't anyone tell Jeremy about it sooner? "...Ok."

The girl gave him a congratulatory golf clap and a hushed 'yay.' The boy bowed subtly and sarcastically in his seat. "You know," Brooke began through a smile. "You're the first person I've dated to not cheat on me with Chloe, which I thank you for." Her smile became more crooked until it resembled more of a passive aggressive frown. "Of course, she did still stir up some drama, but..." An exasperated sigh with just as much exasperation etched into her features. "She's gotten a firm talking to, we'll leave it at that."

Jeremy found it to be the best option to not plague himself with any of the negative connotations and implications behind Chloe's 'talking to' and the reasons behind it. "Ok."

The one-minute bell rang to indicate that was how much time students had to get to their classes, several students within the room shuffling away from their friends and to their assigned seats. Brooke took this as her own cue to stand and grab her bag and phone. "I think we're doing a partner assignment today, maybe we could work together? As friends?" She requested to Jeremy hopefully. 

He found this to be a good way to make amends with her. These were good reasons to believe that things wouldn't be awkward or strained between them. This was good. Being friends with Brooke would be good. "Ok."

That very girl quirked an eyebrow at him. "You can stop saying ok now."

Jeremy grinned. "Ok."

"Dear God, what have I done?"

"You've created a monster."

Brooke rolled her eyes and muttered to herself. "It wouldn't be the first time." She winked at Jeremy before heading off to her own seat, sitting down just before the bell to start class rang. Physics continued on normally from that point on. (Save for the fact that a certain fake French began waving around a certain magenta scarf asking 'who een zee hell bloodied up my scarf?' with the threat that she 'vill keel zem!' since she somehow confused a French accent with a German one. And Brooke and Jeremy shared A Look. Trying not to laugh.) The two later paired up for the impending partner assignment. The rest of the class was understandably loud. And Jeremy was prompted to make some additions to his impulse project. 

 

**_There are voices in my ear_ **

**_I guess these never disappear_ **

**_I'll let 'em squeal and I will deal and make up my own mind_ **

 

\---

Jeremy was in math, oh-so-desperately trying to understand what on Earth the teacher was attempting to teach him through the day's assignment. He imagined that Rich was having about as much trouble as him, if not more. Both because he was unSQUIPped and since he'd missed a lot more class time than Jeremy.

Jake probably was struggling due to his hospital time too, but his confusion couldn't be gauged since he was allowed to leave class early to get to his next period. He was still recovering from having two broken legs and all, so it was safe to assume that he needed the extra few minutes. He couldn't exactly remember when Jake had left, only knowing that he'd told the teacher he needed to. 

And while Jeremy wouldn't exactly say that he missed his SQUIP (because he didn't, he really truly didn't, he couldn't have been happier to hear his own thoughts without the buzzing of another voice kicking around inside his brain), he missed that it could help him with school. 

Because WHAT the actual HELL is up with this STUPID goddamn polynomial fraction factoring BULLSHIT?! Tell him to find the common denominator and add or subtract the fractions, he could do that! That's like, fourth grade shit! Maybe third! Hell, he could even divide fractions! He could Keep Change Flip that shit all day! He could NOT figure out how he was supposed to factor this seventeen-a squared over n plus six times twenty-eight-a-b cubed over n minus two bullshittery, seriously, WHAT the FU-

"Jeremy Heere."

Oh great, another question he won't know the answer to that he'll have to BS his way through-

The math teacher held a salmon-colored slip of paper out in front of her. "Take your stuff with you."

Or not. 

Jeremy A. is probably wishing she'd called on him instead. 

A salmon slip was a note from the office or counseling center excusing the student from class to talk if they were in trouble or if their grades were slipping. Since there was less than twenty minutes left in class, that meant that he wouldn't be back in time to do any more work. So hey, score! 

But also, oh shit. Because what did Jeremy do to get in trouble? It couldn't have been to talk about grades, the SQUIP had been helping keep what were usually C's to high B's and sometimes low A's. Were people ratting him out for the SQUIPpening? Damn it, it wasn't something he had any real control over! Why couldn't people understand this?!

Jeremy slipped out of his seat and went to the front of the room to take the piece of paper. On his way back, Michael - sweet, sweet, wonderful, amazing, beautiful, caring Michael - gave him a confused and worried look. Confurried? Oh God, that sounds like furry. Ah whatever, Michael gave him a confurried look. Jeremy could merely shrug, still not knowing what the note was for. 

He returned to his desk to start packing up his things, still trying to mull over what he could be getting excused from class for. Looking over the paper as he crookedly tried to stuff his binder into his (BOYF) backpack, he noticed some things about it that were a little strange. 

Neither the checkbox next to his counselor's name nor the one next to the principle's were checked. Meaning that it wasn't the principle or the counselor that had sent for him. It looked like someone had written down an 'Other' option and checked next to it instead. The handwriting was so neat and clean in the black pen that it almost looked like it was printed on just like the rest of the words, anyone only glancing at it for a second wouldn't notice anything wrong with it. 

The next thing wasn't quite so weird, pretty normal in fact. The box checked indicating when the student should be sent was simply 'At your nearest convenience'. So really, not so weird at all. What was really strange was where Jeremy was to be sent, which he finally observed after zipping up his bag. Not the counseling center, not the principle's office...

'The choir room  
A103'

Jeremy will always be disappointed that it isn't A113. But regardless, that was definitely the strangest part of the salmon slip. 

And regardless, he zipped up his bag before heading out on his journey halfway across the school for reasons he wasn't at all aware of. 

Backstory time. 

Or, maybe just daily update time. 

For the most part, returning to school after apparently being in a week-long coma didn't have any real changes. Jeremy passed through the halls like normal, no better or worse than when he had been SQUIPped versus when he hadn't been. The only real noticeable difference he could distinguish would be any passerby's reaction if he just so happened to catch their eye. 

If it was a person that he'd never met before, they would pass by like nothing happened. No real surprise there. 

If it was someone from The Play, he would get one of two things. 

Either a smile to acknowledge that they'd seen him and a silent way of saying they were glad to see that be was ok. Maybe they somehow knew that Jeremy wasn't huge on social interaction and wouldn't bug him with questions about the hospital or whatever else. Again, a silent acknowledgment that he was back at school and he was as ok as be could have been. 

Or a barely noticeable dirty look. A mere scowl. Those were likely from the people that understood the brainwashing behind The Play (or at the very least were freaked out enough by the incident that they had a thing against Jeremy.) And hey, yay guilt. But those people didn't voice their distaste for his actions and involvement in The Play. Jeremy didn't know if he preferred it that way or not. 

But the majority of people he passed weren't in The Play anyway, so he didn't get either of the above a lot of times. 

The trip to the choir room ended all too quickly. It didn't take very much searching for it seeing as how it was basically right next to the drama room and the drama room was right next to the auditorium. There wasn't much room for him to get lost, unfortunately. Being lost would've been a good time-waster and a good excuse to not show up though.  

He was suspecting the salmon slip could have been forged by someone who had a bone to pick with him. Shit, what if it was someone from The Play that sought out revenge? But then why would they want to meet a.) in the choir room and b.) during school hours when they could easily get in trouble?

And c.) in a classroom that wasn't currently having a prep period, meaning class was in session. 'But how do you know that class is in session?' It's choir, you can hear it. Quite clearly. And hell if they didn't sound good. Jeremy'd always had a sort of appreciation for nice voices sounding nice together. He'd be tempted to involve himself in such things if anxiety wasn't a complete and utter bitch. 

And actually, who in a choir class would be able to kick his ass? The idea of a bully or unreasonably ripped asshole also being a singer didn't make sense. And the idea of a bully or unreasonably ripped asshole being clever enough to forge a salmon slip to meet him didn't make any sense either. None of the ideas mixed. So maybe he wasn't going to get clobbered in the middle of a choir class after all. 

So with some still lingering extreme uncertainty, Jeremy turned the handle and pulled the door open. 

A male student was sat at the piano with his back facing Jeremy. He was playing away at some sheet music placed on the stand, accompanying the A Capella choir class. (Ironic, right? A Capella is apparently just a name and doesn't necessarily mean that the class will sing exclusively acapella songs, if any during concerts. Stupid and misleading, I know.) The assumed teacher was standing in front of the piano and conducting the class. The room itself was shaped much like an amphitheater, but with chairs for students to sit in instead of lounging about on the ground. 

Scanning over the students singing their harmonies (what language was that? Spanish? French? Latin???) like the angels walking among men that they were, he could pick out a couple familiar faces here and there. Oh yeah. She was in The Play, he was in The Play, she was, she was, he was, Chloe was-

Oh, Chloe. 

Wait, Chloe?

She noticed Jeremy a half second after he noticed her, making a sort of 'oh right' face before closing her music folder and setting it down on her chair behind her. Being one of the tallest girls amongst the class, the brunette slipped past a couple students to the aisle between sectionals. Chloe then came from the back row down past the piano and the guy playing it. She made a motion with her head toward Jeremy at the pianist before motioning Jeremy himself out the door. 

Huh. 

Any guesses who could've forged the salmon slip?

Jeremy stepped aside and let Chloe slip through, following her out into the hall. Did he know why she'd gone through the trouble of forging a salmon slip? No. Did he know why she needed Jeremy alone? No. Did he know why whatever was going on couldn't happen between classes or after school? No. 

He was kinda just going with it. 

Hoping he didn't get murdered. 

Or you know. 

Something. 

Under the girl's pink, blue and yellow tie-dye overalls (pansexual flag colors you see) from probably-Hot Topic, she wore a purple tie-dye shirt with white leggings that went just below her knees. She wore socks with a similar color scheme to the overalls that ended halfway up her calves. 

If there was a Tie-Dye Day for an upcoming school Spirit Week, she would be set and ready to go. 

Longing for words to come out of people's mouths instead of communication through vague looks and motions, Jeremy made half-assed small talk. "You're colorful today."

Not expecting the comment, Chloe made a face before glancing down at herself and immediately understanding the context. "My outfit is happier than I am." She said dryly with a weak shrug. 

"Mood."

Chloe gave a short, breathy laugh, maybe even... awkward? "Right?"

Chloe and awkward, two words that Jeremy would never imagine being in the same sentence. Ever. So what the hell was up with that? It was SQUIP shit, wasn't it? Shit, Jeremy IS gonna get beat up. Or, you know, something. 

Uh. 

When in doubt, fatalistic humor!

"You're not gonna lead me to the nearest bedroom to bang, are you?"

The brunette made a sound through her teeth. Whoops. Too soon? "Yyyeah, um... That's... kiiinda what I wanted to talk to you about..."

Oh?

"Oh?"

"Yeah..."

"Um... Ok."

A beat of silence.

"Fire when ready I guess?" Jeremy prompted. Chloe got drunk that night and tried to screw him. What more was there to say?

The girl blinked a couple times. "Right." She said. "Right, um..." Again, the awkwardness that no one would have ever seen coming showed through as she implied she would say something only to not say anything. "I swear I rehearsed this in my head a thousand times, why am I blanking?" Chloe mumbled to no one, teasing a wavy curl between her manicured fingertips. 

She closed her eyes and sighed. "Ok. I. Was. Not at my finest on Halloween." She looked up at the ceiling. "I was drunk. And jealous. And probably secondhand high off of something." Jeremy was pretty sure 'secondhand high' didn't exist, but allowed her to continue. "I can't just blame it all on the alcohol, that's a horrible excuse and a total bitch thing to do. Which, like, A Week Ago Me wouldn't have known that, but..."

The girl slid her one of her fingers into her belt loop, avoiding eye contact. (Belt loops on overalls seemed pretty useless, but whatever.) She maintained a moment of silence as well. Thinking of the right words? Not wanting to say them? Not knowing how to say them? 

Nervous to say them?

This was all new to Jeremy. 

"But?" He prompted. 

Chloe bit down on her lip. How much pressure until she drew blood? "But, I got on the topic of the party with Brooke and Jake, and," The brunette cringed at herself. "Hindsight is 20/20 by the way, uh... It wasn't really until they freaked out at me that I sort of realized the weight of what I was doing, and, the situation I was putting you in." 

Her expression became much more serious. "And when I say they freaked out, I mean they flipped. Their shit." She rolled her eyes at her past self. "But I was like 'whatever, it's not a big deal' and they were all 'no, it IS a big deal, are you crazy? Do you not realize that you almost-'" Another cringe as she ran a hand through her hair. "God, 'rape' is such an ugly word... But that's what it was, it-"

Before things could go in that direction, Jeremy put his hands up. "Okokok, back up, slow down."

"Grab the wall, wiggle like I'm tryna make my ass fall off?"

"If- pff," Jeremy gave a quick smile and shook his head. He kinda needed that break from the tension. "No." He chuckled out, causing Chloe to give a weak smile in return before the joke lost its humor. Though it was a good way to lighten the mood the slightest amount, even if the more serious issue still had to be addressed. "If I'm being honest, what you did wasn't really what made the night suck for me."

The girl gave a 'really? Are you stupid?' look, then prompting Jeremy to correct himself. "Well ok, it certainly didn't help, but I feel worse about the mistakes I made more than anything." Just don't think about it too much or else you'll have a goddown meltdamn. Wait... "Weirdly enough, I regret what I did more than I regret what you..." A shrug. "Didn't even get to do."

"What I intended on doing." Chloe corrected somberly. "Really, Jeremy, I should've heard you say no."

"Come to think of it, I don't remember if I actually said the word 'no.'"

She rolled her eyes. "Ok, but you implied no. And I should've gotten the hint. This isn't something that can be downplayed like... I don't know, accidentally dropping a cookie dough ball down someone's shirt." Of course it's a frozen yogurt analogy. Wouldn't expect anything different. 

Jeremy sucked on his teeth in remembrance of a night he'd rather pretend never happened. "Allow me to clarify. Yes, at the time of the incident and even for a little while after, I was freaked out. For more reasons than what you were doing. Things separate from you." The bastard SQUIP prevented him from moving, that's a pretty good reason to be freaked out if you ask him. "And maybe I didn't one-hundred percent get the weight of what you were doing at the time either. Like I did but, didn't? Maybe the true reality will hit me in the face in a couple days and I'll have a mental breakdown about it, who knows."

"I can relate to that." Chloe said offhandedly. "But still, I realize how disgusting what I was doing was and I'm sorry for putting you in that situation. Even if you don't get it yet, you will and I'm still trying to let you know that I regret-" A beat followed by a realizing scowl at nothing. "Come to think of it, near damn everything I did that night, I should not have drank as much as I did, shit. Anyway, what I did wasn't ok and you can't convince me that it was. And I am truly sorry for my horrible actions."

God, is this what Jeremy sound like when he apologizes profusely?

"It's f- well I guess it's not fine but you don't have to keep saying sorry."

"So-" She realized her mistake and gave herself a disappointed look, her hands dropping to her sides. Jeremy personally related on a spiritual level. "I fall into that trap all the time, I feel your pain. Just say 'ok', Chloe."

The girl didn't seem to want to accept earning Jeremy's forgiveness to be as simple as it was. He'd even admit it should probably be a bigger deal than he was making it out to be. Though apparently knowing the never-ending cycle continuing to apologize would cause, she let it melt away. "Ok."

In the short moment of silence, the guy Jeremy recognized as the pianist opened the door carrying two backpacks. One of which was obnoxiously bright neon green, the other was of a more reasonable color and saturation. "Hey, Chlo, class gets out in like four minutes so I grabbed your stuff." Thanking him with her eyes, Chloe took her bag from...

That's not right, he should be in math right now. 

"Also, Jake is off his cripple sticks." She said plainly as she swung her backpack onto her shoulder. It was true, Jake very clearly had no... Wait, she didn't say crutches, what did she say?

Jeremy snorted. "Cripple sticks?" He repeated back in disbelief. Jake shrugged casually. "It's accurate." He grinned. 

The other boy hummed at nothing in agreement. "Hm, that it is. But quick question, the hell are you doing in A Capella and not math?" Excellent question, why does Jake get special privileges?!

"He plays at choir concerts." Chloe answered for him simply. "We usually don't get student accompanists excused from class until the first few rehearsals before a concert, but the piece we're doing is so complex and my damn fellow altos are so utterly lost that we need Jake's guidance like two weeks in advance."

"Sorry you have to suffer with an inadequate teacher and I don't." Jake apologized with fake prissiness. So it wasn’t just Jeremy, the math teacher was objectively bad at explaining the content. 'Kay, cool. "Did you see my Totally Effective Warning Text about Chloe getting you out of class by the way?"

Jeremy squinted up at Jake curiously. A warning would have been nice, why didn't he get one? "Your what? No, I didn't." The second tallest teen shook her head in disappointment. "Unappreciative twig." She scolded dryly. "You should look at it man, it's legit." The tallest teen encouraged in a way that rose suspicions. 

Jeremy knew it was just a dumb text. But he was curious as to what effective warnings it contained. Especially since Jake was speaking of it in such a way that it would be humorous. Which knowing Jake, it probably was. 

He made a show of pulling out his phone as a means to show he was committed. He wanted to see that warning. Jake could have and probably did intentionally write it like an illiterate Puritan or squire, one of the two. That would be funny. And so like him. So Jeremy scrolled down to find his contact and-

Stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Michael's. 

And saw all the messages. 

He had sent. 

That he hadn't seen. 

In a horrified daze, he tapped it. 

There were so many missed messages that Jeremy had to scroll up for a solid few seconds to see where it had all begun. 

He scrolled down to read through it all when he finally got there. 

The day after September goddamn first. 

 

Sep 2, 2015, 8:30 AM

Michael:  
<Jeremy>  
<Hope you know I don't care about a double text>  
<I'll quadruple text you if I must>  
<Buzz buzz, it's me again>  
<Jer>  
<Hellloooooooo>  
<Answer meh>  
<Plz>  
<Is lonely>  
<Class is suck>  
<If you don't reply ima just send you goldfish gifs again>  
<Jer>  
<Jer>  
<Dude>  
<Buddy>  
<Bro>  
<Player Two>  
<Heere and Queer>  
<RESPOND DAMN YOU>  
<>:(>

 

He scrolled down a little further. 

 

Sep 2, 2015, 3:21 PM

Michael:  
<Bruh>  
lt;Weed and games or no???>  
<I see you with Brooke???>  
<The hellz?????>  
<Is the tic-tac doin shit???????>  
<Your phone is in your hand! Don't pretend you don't know I'm texting you!>  
<Rawr>  
<Rawr>  
<Rawr>  
<Respond>  
<Respond>  
<Respond>  
><How could this happen to meeeeeee>  
<I made my mistaaaaakes>  
<Got nowhere to ruuuuun>  
<Where are you goingghhgg?!?!?!?>  
<AaahahahahahahHhhhhhHhhhhh?!?!?!>  
<Did you get Brooke's digits??????>  
<Waaaaaaaa????>  
<Whi arell you and what habit huh done to JEREMYYY>  
<*who>  
<*are>  
<*have>  
<*you>  
<Holy shit you never pass up the opportunity to call me out when I typo>  
<On the rare occasions that I typo>  
<Cuz I don't suck at typing like youuu>  
<Ok dude this is getting really old really fast>

 

Further still. 

 

Oct 15, 2015, 4:29 AM

Michael:  
><Look dude, I wanted to have this conversation irl but since you've decided you can't even see me or whatever, this is where we are>  
<I did some research, like I said I would. By some twist of fate I was able to find someone online that knows a thing or two about SQUIPs>  
<To put it bluntly he told me some freaky shit>  
<His brother used to be terrible in school, then he got a SQUIP and was accepted into freaking Harvard>  
<P cool right?>  
<Wrong>  
<Cuz here's how the rest of the story plays out>  
<Straight D student, SQUIP, straight A student, Harvard, personality change, family drama, mental hospital>  
<Yeah, mental hospital. Dude's still in the looney bin to this day>  
<To cut a long horrific story short, Harvard student started acting out and getting really irritated at his family and decided he wanted to shut his SQUIP down. It fought back and tore him to shreds, mentally and physically>  
<That was a little over two years ago>  
<And his younger brother is still trying to connect the dots today>  
<Jeremy... If your story unfolds anything like his, then I want to help. I want to prevent you from going crazy like he did. I want to prevent IT from breaking you>  
<It's an effed up world and a two-player game, so let me be support! Even if your SQUIP's not doing anything bad yet I want to keep it that way! It's in your best interest to want it gone, it can do disgusting horrible things to you>  
<And if it's already done something bad then I'll be the healer, despite being Player One I'm OKAY with having Player Two tendencies!>  
<All you need to do>  
<Is ducking>  
<Let>  
<Me in>  
<You know what I mean by ducking>  
<But just...>  
<Please>  
<Talk to me>  
<I can't do anything if you keep pretending I'm not there>  
><Help me to help you>  
<I'll see you at school>  
<Try to see me>  
<Please..?>

 

That was the last message Michael had sent. 

And Jeremy hadn't seen a damn single one before it. 

Michael had been trying to warn him the whole time. 

Jeremy was too blind to see it. 

He could have gotten help so much sooner. 

But he didn't. 

Because of the last messages that he himself had sent. 

The day before September goddamn first. 

 

_< I'm putting you on Do Not Disturb now>_

_< I win, loser>_

 

That damn word. 

Loser. 

Loser. 

Loser. 

Loser, loser, loser,  _loser, loser, loser._

"Human, respond!"

Jeremy about jumped out of his skin when Jake went to poke him in the midst of his demand for him to respond when he didn’t know he had been addressed. The other teen drew back to show he wasn't a threat and that he didn't have to worry. "Calm down, dude, I don't bite." He smirked casually after this. "I mean not unless you want me to."

"Consensual biting." Chloe chimed in. 

"Consensual biting." Jake repeated, pointing a finger gun at her. It must've been an inside joke. They did date after all. "But seriously, are you ok, man?" Despite his usual dorky jokiness, he did show that he cared about others. Hell, look at Halloween! Broke his legs helping Rich, yo! That's a power move!

"Yeah I'm fine, just having an existential crisis." Jeremy replied cheerfully, trying to ignore the panic building in his chest. Fatalistic humor makes everything slightly more bearable. 

"Why?" The girl asked. "Did you take Astronomy and learn how small and insignificant you are among the vastness of the universe?"

"That is my constant mood but no." Jeremy didn't mean to start getting into it but found that he was. "Michael, my friend had been texting me, trying to warn me about something and I haven't been able to see, I- mmmnnneh." He waved his phone around helplessly and hoped that it got his point across.  

Apparently it did. 

"What was he trying to warn you about?" Jake asked. 

"Same thing I was trying to warn you about at The Play."

"Ah."

"But I didn't see him blowing up my phone cuz I put him on Do Not Disturb."

The two followed his distress easily enough, but it was at this point than they both looked strange upon him for a few long moments. Chloe and Jake shared a look before directing their attention back to him. "Are you trying to say like, him specifically?" The girl asked carefully. 

Jeremy then took some caution and wondered (and worried) what their eye conversation was about. "Yeah? Why? You're saying that like I'm an idiot." He answered just as carefully. Was he an idiot? Well he knew he was an idiot, but was he a different kind of idiot?

The two shared another look, one that said 'should we tell him? Do we have to? Does he know?' Jake opened his mouth to speak. "Jer," He started. "How many contacts did you have before you were SQUIPped?"

Now, there were two problems with answering this question. One, he couldn’t lie. And two, the truth was pitiful. If he were to lie, it had the chance of making him look even stupider than he might have been. Or that Chloe and Jake thought he might have been? He didn't know. It could make him look stupid, that was the point. The truth would make him look like an outcast. Or- God, a _loser._

Really, it was a case of Pick Your Poison. 

"...two."

The two looked truly distraught and sorry for him. 

"Oh you poor thing." The girl pouted with a hand over her heart. 

"Oh you poor, poor, sweet, antisocial, little thing."

Chloe pressed her hands together and held them in front of her lips, pushing a sigh through them. "Jeremy, honey," She said, probably trying to come off as motherly but sounding more condescending. "Do Not Disturb silences all notifications. No matter who or what they're from."

 

...

 

In hindsight...

 

It made perfect sense...

 

Not seeing Brooke's messages. 

 

Or Jake's. 

 

Or his dad's missed calls. 

 

Just. 

 

Ugh...

 

And so, Jeremy facepalmed. 

"You haven't been seeing any notice-fications." Jake was clearly trying to say 'notifications' but messed up a bit. 

"Notice fications?" Chloe echoed in clarification. 

He recognized his mistake and went with it. "Notice me, Fications."

Jeremy snickered and played along, forgetting that he should be disappointed in himself. "Sorry, man. Fications has moved on, they're not gonna notice you."

"I cry at night." Jake said dryly before disregarding that he totally cries at night. The bell rang to indicate the end of class and prompting relieved sighs from all three of the teens outside the choir classroom. "Where you going next?"

"He has US History with me," Chloe cut in. "Parry's room."

"Oh hey," Jake grabbed a lanyard from his pocket and swung it around his finger. "I still have an elevator key, wanna hitch a ride upstairs?"

Ah, recovering from two broken legs still. That would be why. How sweet that he's willing to share his clear advantage in having upstairs classes. Jeremy gave a short laugh. "Considering that stairs are my mortal enemy, that sounds delightful."

Chloe scoffed at nothing. "I warned you 'bout those stairs, man."

And then she realized what she said. And her eyes grew in utter shock and horror. 

And when Jake realized what she said, he gave a look of surprised joy. "What did you say, Chlo?" He asked after a beat. 

"Nothing. I didn't say anything." She dismissed hotly before making a move to exit the premises. But Jake, purely delighted that Chloe had warned Jeremy about those stairs, followed right on her tail. Jeremy followed right on his. "You sure about that?"

"Yes, now shut up."

"Are you suuure you're sure?"

"You're being so obnoxious, oh my Gog- GOD! Can't believe I said that, Jegus Chri- JESUS! Shit!" Chloe put her face into her hands and growled in frustration. "I try not to reference that damn web comic but it KEEPS HAPPENING!"

"HA!"

"GODDAMMIT!"

"It keeps happening!"

"NOOO!!!"

"Hahaha! I've corrupted her!"

Now. Jeremy had absolutely no context whatsoever to this web comic inside joke nonsense. But he found it hilarious regardless. It was objectively funny even if he didn't necessarily know why. 

Jake did a considerable amount of pestering all the to the elevator, much to Chloe's sadistically amusing chagrin. Jeremy meant to ask for the joke context to this web comic in the elevator, but the girl pulled him out into the hall toward their class before he could get the question out. She practically yelled 'you don't want to know!' over Jake's evil cackling before he could tell him about whatever it was. 

Still, he found their bickering funny. He found it difficult to not smile at random points during class when remembering back to Chloe's look of 'oh shit' before the onslaught of pestering began. Jermey even pulled his phone out in class at one point to voice this in some small way. 

 

_**Might still have voices in my head, but now they're just the normal kind** _

 

\---

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Save for the anxious energy of knowing he'd have to face Christine some time in the near future. Things went ok with Brooke though, and she seemed more like the kind of girl to hold grudges. Christine did not. So why was Jeremy anxious? Because she was brainwashed by a computer into thinking that she loved him? 

Oh wait. 

Yeah. 

That's exactly why. 

Finally, the clock struck 2:25 and the shrill bell sounded to release all the animals out of their cages for the weekend. Jeremy knew he couldn’t avoid the confrontation. He had to find Christine and talk to her. He'd been putting it off all day and if he didn't get to it today, there was no telling if he would ever work up the courage to do so another time. 

Next week wouldn’t work because of Thanksgiving break, giving a five-day weekend from Wednesday to the following Sunday. Trying to squeeze it in on Monday or Tuesday would be too inconvenient. And he was thinking about it right now, so it’d be better for him to get it over with, right?

Plus he could forget about it over the weekend and never get it done! And Christine would think that Jeremy was the actual worst person ever which would totally suck because she's an awesome person that didn't deserve to be sucked into the SQUIP shit and another friend would be nice especially if it was Christine cuz she's a friggin' saint that's too kind for her own good-

"There you are, dork!"

Aw heck. 

Jeremy grinned sheepishly at the group before him, moving away from the front entrance of the school in order to not hold up the traffic of those waiting for their rides. "Here I am."

Jenna feigned exasperation. "Yes, we know you’re Heere, quit reminding us." Jake promptly flicked her on the back of the head. "No. Stop it. Not allowed at the country club." The girl snickered unforgivingly at this. 

"Honestly Jenna, do you have to point out the pun at every opportunity?" Chloe complained. 

"Does it annoy you?"

"A little, yeah."

"Then yes. Yes I do."

Chloe took her turn in flicking Jenna, who winced and grinned at her disapproval. "Abuse!" She called out over Brooke's giggles as if anyone else were paying attention to their antics. Anyone else besides Jeremy of course. 

"Is this what you called me for?" He joked to ease some of his anxious energy. "To make a petition to change my last name so that Jenna will stop making a joke that I've been hearing my whole life?"

"Good idea for a later date but no." Chloe answered. "We want to help you out in talking to Christine." Brooke chimed in. "We know you're nervous about it and stuff." Everyone else nodded along in agreement, much to Jeremy's confusion. "How do you guys know that?" SQUIP shit, possibly?

"It's kinda hard to explain." Jake shrugged. "Chlo's got the best answer but even it's not all that great."

Chloe shot him a look. "I can only speak for myself really. I don't know what it is. But ever since we all did ecstasy at The Play, I've been feeling really connected to you guys."

"Yeah, 'ecstasy'." Jenna muttered, winking up at Jeremy while putting air quotes around the drug name. He twisted a smile at her, rolling his eyes with a shake of his head. 

"Shut up, Jennifer." The tallest girl scolded her. Jeremy had noticed a joke this group had in the past about using 'full names' at times, even if their names weren't short for anything. 

"SO, constructive criticism time." The girl being scolded cut in as a means to give the blonde a sort of setup for the true reason they were looking for Jeremy. "What exactly is your plan in asking her out?" Brooke asked him. 

Asking out? Uh, Jeremy hadn't planned on doing that. Clearly they weren't as connected by The Play's 'ecstasy' as Chloe thought. But ya know what, it'd be easier to go along with it than to correct them. Maybe since they'd be preparing him for a much more serious scenario, it'll make something less so easier. 

That logic checks out, right?

"Don't really have much of one, I'll just burn that bridge when I get to it." He answered truthfully, which Jenna snorted at. "Oh you'll burn it, will you?"

"Because no matter how much I plan for something, I always mess it up."

"Ooohh! So it's like headphones. No matter how nice and neat you fold them up, they're gonna get tangled."

"Exactly!"

"Preeeach!" Chloe drawled. 

"I see where the problem lies." The queen of gossip (and that title doesn't define her, alright?! Human being, dammit! It's simply convenient!) stated. "Because you've convinced yourself that you're gonna fail, you're more likely to do so. So loosen up! Don't stress about it or prepare for failure! You'll do fine! And if Chrissy does reject you then you'll be in a better headspace about it."

Uh huh, ok. Ignoring the rejection thing, that all makes sense. That's good. That works. 

"Don't get hung up on your insecurities, Jermey." Brooke stepped in sweetly. "Chances are that some little thing you don't like about yourself isn't even noticeable to anyone else." Jeremy couldn't help but smile at that, she's honestly too sweet. He was most likely blushing a little. Even after everything, he still wasn't great at taking compliments or praise. 

"Going off that a little, you don't have anything to worry about." Came the third girl. "If I know anything about Christine, then she'd totally be weird enough to give you a fair shot!"

The other girls laughed at her bluntness. "Wooow! So encouraging!" Jenna agreed sarcastically. 

"She might think acne's hot!"

"Not helping, Chloe!" The blonde said between giggles. 

"Shut up, Brooklyn."

Um... Yeah, alright, still ignoring the dating thing. Let's just take Chloe's thingy with a grain of salt. 

As the ladies composed themselves, the man of the group gave his two cents. "Yo man, don't worry about them. I got'chur back, home slice."

Something Jeremy didn't fully process. "You? Why?"

Jake scoffed as if the answer were obvious. "She was my girlfriend. Who better to give you advice than the one who dated her?"

"Christine broke up with you."

He opened his mouth as though he were to respond, but instead looked over Jeremy's shoulder blankly. His eyes shifted around like he was thinking. One thought (apparently up and to his left) really grabbed his interest. Jake smiled at it, gazing back at Jeremy with his newfound information. 

"Shut up, Jeremiah."

Heheh, Jeremy was right and Jake couldn't prove him wrong. 

"Joke's on you, Jeremiah really is my first name."

"Oh shit."

"Shut up, Jacob."

"Oh heck, my dude, he got you good." Jenna drawled. "Moral of the story, everything will go fine if you ignore these peeps and listen to me."

Chloe looked truly offended by Jenna’s advice. "Um, excuse you? I think I've had more boyfriends and girlfriends so I clearly know what I'm doing and saying, so he should listen to me."

"But I dated Jeremy so I know his charm and what he can say to Christine, so he should listen to me."

"But I dated Christine and I know what charms will work on her, so he should listen to me."

"You guys, saying that you've had a lot of datemates is kinda like those people that have had a lot of jobs. It usually means they got fired and it usually means that those relationships have failed."

On and on the semi-serious bickering went up until Jeremy smiled and rolled his eyes. "You guys are idiots."

All eyes went to him. "What else is new?" All four of the arguing teens looked at each other, laughing before the tallest girl pointed to Jake, Brooke, and Jenna respectively. "Jinx, jinx, and-" 

"Jinx!" Chloe and Jenna said together. "Double jinx!" The shorter girl quickly added. "Goddammit, Jenna!" All but the double-jinxed girl laughed at her misfortune, including Jeremy. 

Why was he ever intimidated by these people? They're total dorks. Kids, like him. They have a sense of humor. Simple in some regards. All these quote-unquote 'popular' people are is immature like Jeremy. That's it! They're all exactly the same! Social hierarchy who?!

Is this was having a friend GROUP is like? 

Who'd've ever guessed it? Jeremy, multiple friends, a group...

A Squad. 

"Wish I could stay for the family reunion, guys," He butt in. "but Christine won't be at school all day, meaning I gotta skedaddle."

Jenna and the rest of the Squad waved him goodbye. "Don't get hit by a car on the way there."

Jeremy pouted, giving a disappointed whine. "Dammit, you're no fun." 

"You're just now realizing this?" The girl shot back. 

The boy stuck his tongue out at her as he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. As he did though, he slipped his phone back out to make more notes.

 

**_"Just summon strength from within >:3" -Jenna _ **

**_"Don't get hung up on your skin ^_^" -Brooke_ **

**_"She probably thinks that acne is hot :D" -Chloe_ **

**_"I'll throw you a rope, home slice, if ya need some dope advice ;D" -Jake_ **

**_"Now march on over and give her a shot!_ **

**_Buddy, you'll see it'll go perfectly if you listen to-"_ **

**_"Me"_ **

**_"Me"_ **

**_"Me!" -All of the above_ **

 

**_There are voices all around_ **

**_And you can never mute the sound_ **

**_They scream and shout, I'll tune them out and make up my own mind_ **

 

Jeremy traversed the parking lot in a good mood. 

But in all honesty, he probably wasn't receiving Girl Advice from the most qualified of people. 

His mom left his dad, Michael was gay, Rich was... Well, Rich, Jenna's and Brooke's pointers were nice, but would likely be drowned out by Jeremy's own anxiety, he didn't know what the hell Chloe was trying to do, aaaand Christine broke up with Jake, as previously mentioned. 

And then the anxiety came back. 

Shit. 

Well it was nice to not have while it lasted. 

And then he saw Christine standing on a curb and looking at her phone. 

Double shit. 

Now what?

Rich would definitely swoop in and say 'That dress looks nice on you, but I bet it would look nicer on my floor.'

Michael would say something along the lines of 'I see you're rocking the dress and jeans combo. Very 2000s.'

Or, wait, his dad said the stuff about complementing the clothes. But did that NOT sound like something Michael would say??

God, this is confusing. 

Next thing Jeremy knew, he was right next to Christine. 

Triple shit. 

Might as well say hi. 

"Um... hey."

No immediate response.  

Quadruple shit. 

Jeremy’s fingers found their way to the cuffs of his sleeves to toy with the fabric. There was nothing to stop him from doing it. Was it obvious that he was getting nervous? Nah, he's just shaking cuz it's cold outside. Late November can get pretty chilly. 

"I kept trying to figure out where I knew SQUIPs from while you were out." The girl suddenly muttered, her phone getting tucked away into a mysterious dress pocket. 

Uh...

Quintuple shit?

"I felt like I'd heard about them before." One of her hands went into the crook of her elbow and the other went in the air. Classic Christine not being able to keep her hands still. "Like it was on the tip of my tongue, or my mind I guess, if that makes sense. Then I remembered the drama camp I went to two years ago at my old school. This guy was a part-time acting coach, graduating from Harvard in a month."

Harvard...?

Oh God...

"The last couple weeks of freshman year came and… he stopped showing up. His brother was our age. I asked him where he was but he wouldn’t say anything. Nothing except..." Christine stopped for a moment, closed her eyes, sighed, opened them. "'His SQUIP is being a pain.' People began rumoring that he was in a mental hospital. I... didn't want to believe them."

The actress's fingertips brushed down her arm until her hand was at her side, thumbs scratching already-chipped royal blue polish off her nails. "His brother didn't tell us whether he was or wasn't. I didn't ask. Felt like an invasion of privacy. He... shut himself off sophomore year. Didn't talk to anyone. Think it was because of his brother, the-the acting coach, the-"

"Harvard student..." Jeremy's words were barely above a mumble. 

Christine nodded solemnly. "Who did yours look like?" She asked blankly, eyes finally meeting his. No blue glow. Not SQUIPped. Thank God. 

"Keanu Reeves. Yours?"

A beat. 

"Hillary Clinton. It's... Embarrassing..."

"That one's actually not-"

"To find out that-"

"Oh wait, never mind."

Christine stopped, eyebrows knitting together in confusion before shooting up in realization. "Oh! Did you think I was talking about...?"

Slightly embarrassed yet still finding the humor in the moment, Jermey nodded. "Yeah, yeah I did."

It definitely did a great job of lightening the mood, which he couldn't complain about. This was shown by Christine's giggling. "There are worse people." She said in mock-reluctance, waving a hand. "If it was my choice, I'd have had it look like Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Oh, or Janet from Rocky Horror Picture Show. Or Marian from Music Man. Wait no! William Shakespeare himself!"

The boy snickered, she was so ADD. "Wouldn't expect anything less from you. I know how much you idolize the man."

"Can I go on a tangent real quick?" Christine blurted out. "Before I forget everything."

Jermey blinked. Went from zero to pi real quick. "Sure?"

To absolutely no one's surprise, the girl's hands began to do aerial stunts. "I feel like a lot of the celebrities that people look up to are crushes to them. I never really understood that. I admire the work of a lot of actors and actresses, but I don't watch the things they're in simply to stare and them or admire how hot they are. Sort of going with that, I don't understand the people that get sexual fantasies about people, real or fictional! Celebrity or otherwise. People always talk about it but I've never in my life been able... to... relate..." Christine soon slowed to a stop, hands suspended in midair before slowly moving down as if stuck in molasses. "Oh my gods, I think I'm ace."

"Oh my gods, I think I'm bi." The boy said flatly.

The girl smiled up at him crookedly. "Clever girl."

"Nice Jurassic Park reference."

Christine chuckled in remembrance, though silence soon came after it. Quickly enough though, she broke it. "I... still remember how it felt. What's really embarrassing is finding out that deep down, I just want things to be easy."

The SQUIP, huh? Right, couldn't avoid the topic forever. "Well, who wants things to be hard?"

Christine shrugged at the ground. "Masochists?"

Jermey hummed, doing all he could to not think of the dirtier implications to things being hard. "You're not wrong..." He said before deciding to rip off the bandaid and get it all over with. "Look, I ruined The Play, almost destroyed the school and maybe even all of human civilization." He found himself cracking a couple knuckles. Again, nothing to stop him. "I know the last thing I deserve is forgiveness or another shot at being a decent acquaintance, but..."

 

'You're pretty, let's hold hands.' -Dad

'You're smart, let's kiss.' -Michael 

'You're hot, let's bang.' -Rich

 

Not being able to find the words, Jeremy made a shrugging motion to Christine, asking for help in a way. She smiled and rolled her eyes. "Just..." A roll of her wrists toward the boy, a presenting gesture, you could call it. "Say what's on your mind, Jeremy."

 

That.

 

Was probably the best advice he'd gotten all day. 

 

Maybe in his life. 

 

"Lunch?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Play rehearsal is almost everyday after school like "free time never met her."  
> But it's ok cuz I'm in the ensemble as a pirate of Penzance (harharhar I'm so funny).  
> I still went to improv the day my glasses died despite being blind.  
> My new frames came in on September 6.  
> My grandma gave me a new iPod on September 20. (SHE GAVE ME AN UPGRADE UPGRADE UPGRADE)  
> Plus Night of Shakespeare happened on September 26! And that was fun to perform in! (When selling tickets I was basically going around saying "hi I'm very gay and I'd like a few dollars." But like bruh afterwards I was getting compliments from STRANGERS on my performance!)  
> So I guess it's not ALL bad.  
> ...  
> Just pretty bad.  
> And I have a more decent excuse for taking a millennium to update other than "I'm Slow" since I'm in a musical.  
> Wouldn't change it for the world since I love performing.
> 
> And also HHHGGGGGGGG I wAnted this to all be one chapter and not have an Act Two but dAAAAMN it was getting sooo long!! Rivaling TPHH:AT I think!
> 
> Side note aahhhhhh October 3 landed on a Wednesday in which I wore pink I stan. I regrettably wasn't learning about factorials to make the day even more Mean Girls. Prolly cuz I'm not in calc hAH :D
> 
> ANYWAY! ONTO ACTUAL IMPORTANT SHIT CUZ WHO CARES ABOUT MY """"LIFE""""
> 
> Naming the dolphin Mary Jane based on Chapter Six of "Five Disastrous Double Dates and One that is Alright" by somethingcleverimsure
> 
> Chloe's apology inspired by "I'm Sorry" by radllovejoy
> 
> "Omg I think I'm ace, omg I think I'm bi" is based off a bit that I think is from a deleted fic? I tried looking for it in my history but couldn't find it. IF I'm not mixing my stories up, it was Jeremy's 18th birthday where he eats weed muffins with Michael, they kiss in the basement (because rEASons) and it goes "oh my god I think I'm bi" "oh my god I think I'm gay" and they laugh cuz they're stoned. If anyone can help me out Heere that'd be 8/8 m8.  
> (Edit: I fOUND IT it’s “Will You Be the Boyf to My Riends?” by iamavacado)
> 
> Chloe's outfit and the quote about it being happier than her are both literally me. I have that outfit. I said that line. Bow before me.
> 
> "Cripple sticks" is literally what my friend called her crutches when she pulled her hamstring. She threatened to smack people with them.
> 
> "I may be an idiot but I'm not stupid" is a flipped version of what a pirate pretending to be blackout drunk said, taking off (sun)glasses and all.
> 
> "Notice-fications" and "notice me Fications" are both based on a similar occurrence with one of my other friends. She and her brother are a lot of my inspiration for Jakey D.
> 
> So not only will I be putting inspiration from other fics in here, but inside jokes as well. Much like goldfish fears from a million Heeres- I mean years agol
> 
> Also queer culture is fingerguns.
> 
> Also also soft Jake plays piano fight me.
> 
> (Jer's phone notes don't look how I wanted them to but I don't care at the moment,,,)


	22. Those Voices In My Head: Act Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Semi-legit fluff? In MY angsty Boyfs fic? It’s more likely than you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all got worried cuz Jer said “Lunch?” in the last chapter huh?
> 
> No worries my dudes, I got your backs. 
> 
> (You have no idea how tempted I was to post this two days later so it could be the same date that this chapter takes place hhhhhh)
> 
> ((Also the text convos are formatted slightly differently than previously established cuz I just cANT be bothered to go on the computer and fix it, I just CANT.))
> 
> (((The text formatting is a little better, the notes in Jeremy's phone are still a huge question mark for me. My old iPod formatted stuff differently. Like the texts where it's one line directly under the other? Yeah with the old iPod I hit return once and it does that. Where it's a space [what would just be hitting return once on a computer] is hitting return three times. Hopefully that makes sense. It probably doesn't. Pleasehelpme)))

Christine’s expression shifted worriedly before Jeremy added on, “Platonically?”

Hey, she just barley figured out that she might be asexual, he wasn’t going to be a jerk like that. She also sounded aromantic from the way she put it. Not clear yet though. And no rush to find out either way.

At that, the girl’s shoulders visibly relaxed. She put her hands on her hips. “You know what? After the worst party I’ve ever been to, and the disaster that was...” A vague gesture. “Whatever Midsummer’s was, that sounds...” A welcoming smile. “Pretty killer.”

Huh.

That went.

Surprisingly well.

“Cool.” Jeremy smiled, relieved. “So uh, Saturday?”

“So tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s-? Oh yeah, duh.” Brain fart.

Christine looked around in thought. “Tomorrow aaat... Noonish?”

A shrug. “Noonish works.”

“Noonish it is then!”

“Woo.” The boy cheered plainly, pumping a fist. An action that followed with a quiet cracking sound. It wasn’t serious in any way. It just happened sometimes.

“What was that?”

“Think my elbow popped.”

The girl shot up two big thumbs up. “Fun!”

“Very.”

“Where would we be going?”

Hm, that’s a good question. Where would they be going? Where’s a good lunch place? Jeremy didn’t think he would actually get this far. “I’ll text you.”

“Coolio, my dudio!”

An ominous tone played from Christine’s Mysterious Dress Pocket, which she recognized as her phone. She slipped it out to see what the cause of the sound was. “My dad’s here.” The girl said, pointing behind herself with a thumb as the device disappeared once again. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Jeremy said dumbly, waving a hand. “See ya.”

Christine returned the gesture with a smile before readjusting her backpack straps and spinning around to the apparent location of her father. The boy took this as his cue to head in the direction of his ride as well.

But then a thought dawned upon him.

“Christine?”

The girl twirled back around curiously to face him. “Yeah?”

Jeremy snapped his fingers and shot finger guns her. “It’s not a date.”

That made Christine break into unsuspecting giggles. She held up a finger to let the boy know she was composing herself until after a moment, she finally did so. “It’s not a date.” She confirmed happily. 

And Jeremy repeated it just as much so whilst taking a couple steps back. “It’s not a date!”

“It’s not a date!”

“It ain’t a date!”

Christine bowed with a flourish, which was nothing short of in-character for her. “A date, it is not!”

Jeremy tipped an imaginary fedora in her direction. “Not a date!”

Christine swung an arm around dramatically, turning her entire body around a hundred and eighty degrees as a result to continue taking her leave. “Not a date!”

“Not a date!” That was the last time Jeremy said his titular line before he felt a mass of something from behind, spinning around hastily to see it and possibly apologize in the case that it was offended with him.

Why did he have to keep running backwards into things?

“Hi! What’s not a date?” The mass said with a grin, purposely sounding innocently oblivious.

A mass that Jeremy was more than happy to run into, even if he did have to half-ass some sort of excuse. “Don’t worry about it. Just know that it's not a date, but rather, a yate.” Michael rolled his eyes in exaggerated exasperation. “For the love of- how many times do I have to tell you? The past form of yeet is yote, not yate!”

“Well I like yate better!”

“You made it up!”

“Someone made yeet up!”

Michael inhaled dramatically, about to point a finger before dropping his arm and looking over Jeremy's shoulder in ‘realization.’ “Oh shit, you right.” Jeremy didn’t try to hide his growing grin or the giggle bubbling up in his throat, the last thing he wanted to do was take any amount of joy for granted. “I always right.”

“Mm, that’s not true.”

“Hush.” He chided jokingly, earning a shoulder bump from his friend. Something he was definitely ok with taking.

He was also totally ok with Michael being the one to offer him a ride home at lunch instead of needing to ask if that was outside of their boundaries. You know, the boundaries that Jeremy assumed would be there after the whole SQUIP thing. But apparently not. Because Michael was unrealistically forgiving and amazing.

And it was a huge mistake to say that liking him a little too much was a worthy reason to leave him behind. Because it wasn’t. It was a case of Jeremy’s emotions being a little too intense one day and acting on impulse. Call it hormones or something. Call it Christine being in the same place as Jeremy at the right time. Call it Rich being in the same place as Jeremy at the wrong time. Call it Jeremy being desperate enough to go to such drastic measures. Call it an ever-present, underlying need to be popular that’d been there since seventh grade at latest. Call it whatever you will, it was and will continue to be the stupidest thing that Jeremy’s ever done.

That doesn’t even go into the sort of things the SQUIP had him do or say. Yeah, it helped at certain points, but compare that to the shocking and overall emotional manipulation and abuse and those bits of assistance seem like nothing more than a grain of sugar to try sweetening up a heaping helping of salt. Guess it’s not until you aren’t getting hurt anymore that you truly realize how much pain you’ve been through.

On that note:

__

_**So many voices in my head** _

_**Yeah, they can yell and hurt like hell but I know I’ll be fine** _

_**I still have voices in my head** _

_**And of those voices in my head, the loudest one is mine**_  

 

“What’re you smiling at?” Michael asked mock-accusingly. 

Huh, was Jeremy smiling at his phone? Maybe he was just really proud of his rhyming abilities in his impulse project, especially by rhyming ‘head’ with ‘head.’ Or maybe...

“Nothin’, I’m just...” He started, pocketing his Magic Box of Knowledge. “Really glad that things are...” A frown upon remembering the true reality of things. “I dunno if I have the right to say they’re back to normal quite yet, but...” He slid into an unannounced hug, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder. Sure, Jeremy may have been weird about physical contact sometimes, but usually that was with people other than Michael.

Sure, he was sometimes like that with Michael because he was afraid of doing something he’d regret or catching feeling he didn’t want to, but he honest-to-God could not have cared less in this moment. Michael may not have been expecting the hug, but he reciprocated it easily. “I’m glad things are better and that... We’re on the same team again.” Jeremy finished with more certainty, squeezing his friend a little and hoping he didn't sound too sappy. 

Judging by Michael’s barely-there chuckle, he did sound pretty sappy. But judging by his barely-there returning squeeze, he didn’t mind in the slightest. “Me too, bud. Me too.”

And that’s where they stayed for a moment. Two friends, hugging in the parking lot, ten minutes after school was let out, not giving a damn if anyone else saw them. Letting them give weird stares. Letting them giggle and make gay jokes and assumptions. Letting them think whatever the hell they wanted because none of that criticism could compete with the comfort of a Player Two joining in his Player One’s game.

“So are we gonna make out now or what?”

Jeremy jerked his knee into Michael’s thigh, eliciting a laughed-out ‘ow’ from the latter and reddening the former’s face. The hug broke amongst the banter, which was fine, it’d gone on a little long anyway. Michael rubbed at the spot on his leg that got to know Jeremy’s knee a little better. “Geez, Heere, ya coulda’ said no!”

“Yeah, but my idea seemed more fun. You’re lucky I didn't aim higher.”

“Puh-lease, you wouldn’t.”

Jeremy smirked. “Would I?”

“No.”

“Would I?”

“No!”

“Yeah, you’re right, I wouldn't.” The two chuckled at Jeremy’s inability to be THAT cruel. Although it wasn’t forgotten how cruel he was just moments ago. “But goddamn, Jer, you have bony knees!”

“Bone-knees.”

“How did I know you were gonna say that?” Michael asked in fake reluctance. Jeremy shrugged. “Lucky guess?”

“If I see a bruise on my leg later, I’m holding you fully responsible.”

After Michael unlocked the iconic PT Cruiser, the two dumped their backpacks into the backseat before slipping into those of the front. The key slid into the ignition and the worn car roared to life, gently humming in the background of some commercial on the radio. “So,” The owner of the car began with some uncertainty. “My place?”

_(The ‘conversation,’ if it could be called that, at lunch had consisted of Michael unexpectedly finding Jeremy at their usual spot - one of the booths near the windows viewing the benches outside that other people often sat at - but somehow not outwardly expressing anything unusual, internal or otherwise, about it. Even though Jeremy hadn’t sat at that spot in what felt like years and he felt really unwanted there._

_“I guess,” Michael had started casually. Whether it had been real or artificial was anyone’s guess. “You sitting here also means you want a ride home?”_

_Jeremy had suddenly felt twenty times more unwanted than he already did. “Well- I- uh, not, necessarily? I-I mean if you’re offering a-and you’re ok with it, then, then sure? Although there’s not much to do at my place, uh- that’s not me trying to-! Like-! I dunno, guilt you into having me over! I don’t wanna put you in a weird place cuz I was like, ignoring you for so long, it’s totally fine if you’d rather I-”_

_Michael had put a hand up, stopping Jeremy. Thank the gods. “It’s ok.” He’d laughed. “We can figure it out after school. Nod if you understand.”_

_Jeremy, though still indescribably worried that his company wasn’t desired in any form or fashion, had nodded._

_And on and on the rest of lunch passed, like it would have almost three months ago if there wasn’t an evil supercomputer in the way. And there wasn’t.)_

“If, you’re offering, and that’s cool with you.” Jeremy said timidly.

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t cool with it, genius.” Michael quipped, something Jeremy needed because he really didn’t want to do serious conversations right now. He knew that one or two or seventy would be required, but he’d rather let those happen on their own than force them into a car ride. “How do ya wanna pass the time? Maybe pick up on some AotD?”

Jeremy gave a short laugh, remembering a conversation had on a different car ride from a public building to a not-quite-so-public building, a home even. “Never in my life did I think I would be uttering this phrase, but...” He looked his best friend dead in the eyes. “I’m grounded from video games.”

_(In the early hours of 2:40 that morning, Jeremy had been in the passenger seat of his dad’s car with a Get Well Soon balloon floating idly in the back, paper hearts and a stuffed dolphin in his lap, watching the streetlights whiz by and getting mesmerized by the many glowing, colored blobs of the traffic lights and lit store signs on the drive back home. At a particularly quiet moment, both father and son had wanted to add some form of reconciliation._

_“I’m sorry-” They had both started._

_“What?”_

_“Sorry, you go ahead.” The man had said._

_The boy had hoped he wouldn’t, but had found it in himself to comply regardless._

_“Um, I was gonna say...” He had begun rubbing the fabric of his slightly-too-long sleeves between his fingertips, voice groggy from exhaustion. “‘M sorry for being a turd last week, and, saying all that jerky stuff about you, and Mom, and...” Jeremy had tiredly shook his head. “I dunno, it was just... really uncalled for, and, I’m sorry... I don’t know if it brought up any bad memories or anything, whatever I said, but... yeah...”_

_His father hadn’t had the words to respond to such a thing, absolutely none other than, “Oh.”_

_A week-long beat of silence._

_“It’s... a two-way street, Private, and I’m sorry for not being the dad you needed me to be all these years.” Jeremy had turned his head away from his window to see his father’s face. He had still been looking at the road instead of him, which was the right thing, of course. “I didn’t realize how much of your life I was missing out on, and how oblivious I was to how you were taking it. The measures you felt you had to go to and all that, y’know?”_

_Jeremy had nodded, also humming in the affirmative to ensure his dad understood him._

_More silence._

_“And you may have been a turd, but you’re my turd. And I have to take responsibility for you. Which involves disciplining you when necessary.”_

_Despite how all other normal, sane kids and teens would react to being punished for being a turd, Jeremy had smiled at the thought of his father getting his act together. “Speaking of, what exactly am I grounded from?”_

_“Hm, video games? For a week?”_

_“I’ll take it.”_

_“Really? Cuz my next idea was ‘no Michael.’”_

_Jeremy had visibly stiffened at the thought. “Um... I’ve kinda... BEEN grounded from Michael for almost three months, if that makes sense.”_

_“It... doesn’t?”_

_Silence yet again._

_“...SQUIPs aren’t a thing I just made up...”_

_And_ _on_ _and_ _on it went.)_

Michael gasped dramatically, slapping a hand over his heart. “I am appalled! I do not know you! I have no best frie-! I’m kidding, that’s not true. I am mind-blown, but I’m not saying- you get it. When did Don’t Stop Believin’ start playing?”

Sure enough, that very song in all its 80s glory was playing on the radio, waiting to be sung horribly incorrectly by two teenage boys who loved tweaking things to be stupider and/or funnier.

“I singer in a smokey room,”

The two shared a look. A thought. A grin.

“SMELLY WINE AND SHEEP PERFUME!”

And on and on it went, all the way to Michael’s area of residence.

\---

The beat-up car was pulling into the empty driveway when the first few piano notes of Bring Me To Life played, immediately getting cut out by the car turning off.

“Oh come on! Right as we’re showing up?”

Michael scoffed. “What are you complaining about? You can listen to Evanescence whenever you want.”

“I know.” Jeremy said, dropping it. He wasn’t THAT upset by it. But drama and theatrics can be fun sometimes. He’d learned that, if nothing else when rehearsing a Play that wouldn’t end up officially being fully run through.

Imagine how Christine took that, all the blood, sweat and tears for nothing.

The boys retrieved their backpacks, one of the house’s residents expertly flicking through keys to the one that would open their entryway to... well, whatever they were gonna do, if not video games.

Jeremy was filled with more than a little bit of anticipation. He hadn’t stepped foot in Michael’s house since before September goddamn first after all. When was the last time, actually? August twenty-eighth? Later? Whatever day it was was well over two and a half months ago, he knew that much. And he was anxious to get inside and have things feel some semblance of normal. The Mell house was practically a second home, of course he’d want to feel the comfort of a familiar and memorable setting.

And when the right key slid into the lock, scraping the inside of it and jingling against its comrades, that anticipation only grew until the door finally swung inward.

And the boys fell right back into it.

The pure familiarity and feeling of ‘this is right’ made it all come back. Two and a half, almost three months of not so much as looking at each other felt as far away as the chances of Jeremy being a helpless ball of panic less than fifty percent of the time.

Because that was right. That was how things should be. Freaking out about any and everything was his forte.

(See also: _**If I’m not feelin’ weird or super strange**_

_**My life would be in utter disarray** _

_**Cuz freakin’ out is my**_ _**ok**_ )

Jeremy shouldn’t have been the one to not overthink some little gesture. He shouldn’t have been the one to not be worrying about something at any given moment. He shouldn’t have not worried. He shouldn’t have been SQUIPped.

And now he wasn’t.

Michael crossed to the kitchen and tossed his keys on top of the fridge. “Moms, dads, I’m home!” He called into the house.

No response.

“Good talk!”

“That’s great, now where’s my stubby chubby baby?”

Michael scoffed at the overwhelming bluntness. “Wow, good to know he’s the one you truly care about.” He said dryly. “Probably under the couch.”

“JJ,” Jeremy called, snapping his fingers close to the ground. “C’mere, Turdball.”

A brown ball of fur with a single green eye squeezed out from under the couch on cue, chirping and scampering over to the human requesting his presence. JJ continued to meow at him as he rubbed against his legs affectionately. And like any good cat owner, (not really, but he might as well have been) Jeremy meowed back. (He made a point to not mention to Michael how he could’ve made a furry joke there but didn’t.)

“Hi, kitty. Oh my gods, you’re chatty.” The cat’s senior bent down to pick him up, the feline purring profusely and licking Jeremy’s nose.The boy scrunched up the object of JJ’s affection at the sensation of a sandpaper-like tongue being dragged against it.

Michael chuckled at the family reunion between Friend and Pet as his Friend positioned the Pet to be held like the stubby chubby baby he was, rubbing the back of his fuzzy neck. “He’s crying at you because he missed you.”

Jeremy pouted down at the cat that was now rubbing his head under his chin. “Did you miss me? Does the woe is the you- ow.” JJ reached over to Jeremy’s right shoulder, latching on and making his way behind the boy’s head to perch on his left, halfway between being a parrot and being draped over his neck. Jeremy often blamed the feline for his slouching tendencies. The weight wasn’t all on his shoulders though, seeing as how he was wearing a backpack that was supporting most of the cat’s weight.

Michael chuckled, once again, at his misfortune, however expected it was. “You good?” He asked. The more encumbered one of the boys blew a lock of bangs out of his face as JJ began licking his temple. “Oh I’m fine, can you tell?” He replied, faking offense, however silly he looked while wearing a cat as a scarf.

Michael smiled fondly at the scene for a moment before crossing to the stairs. “Ima go change. You can head on down to the basement and hang out. Pretty sure there’s a basket of clean laundry down there, shouldn’t have any trouble finding something to sleep in.” The pair had talked in the car about how long Jeremy would be staying and somehow came to the agreement of a sleepover. Which, again, he didn’t understand how Michael would be so chill about it, (and he wished he could think of a better word that wasn’t ‘chill’) but didn’t outwardly complain.

“Cool cool.” Jeremy responded, gesturing at his new accessory. “I’m taking this with me.”

“Go for it.”

Smiles were exchanged before the two branched off to different levels of the house. Jeremy managed to make it down the stairs successfully with JJ rubbing up against his face and purring his guts out. It was a skill that took years and years of practice with no formal training. He was the only one that JJ would climb onto.

That’s not true, he’d climb onto everyone else’s shoulders too, but only when Jeremy wasn’t there. He was always the one that the cat would go to if he wanted a human to perch on. Michael would joke around and say ‘like father, like son,’ which didn’t make sense in that context, but he’d say it anyway. Then there would be a fight about who was really the father of the feline that included the actual fathers of the house. Then one of the mothers would say she was the father and everyone would unanimously approve of the statement.

The Mells were like a second family to Jeremy considering how often he’d go over their house before, or even instead of, his own house after school. Truth of the matter was that he had so much fun there that he never wanted to not be there to experience a new or even recycled inside joke.

Ok, ALSO because of the friendship of and crush on Michael, but details, details.

Jeremy soon made it to the infamous (frankly freezing) basement of many video gaming and movie watching marathons and weed smoking shenanigans, the scent of which was stronger than it was in quite a while.

The nostalgia and overall Feels had hit him the moment he walked in the front door, but here and now was the big one. This was the basement. The basement of pillow forts and lightsaber fights. The basement of Mario Kart tournaments and Marvel movie binge nights. The basement of watching horror movies past their bedtime and playing with a newly adopted pet. The basement of Scott Pilgrim references and Halo Legendary Mode completion at four in the morning. The basement of original Apocalypse of the Damned play-throughs and smoking dope. The basement of more memories than Jeremy could name in one session, if at all.

Michael’s basement.

The unmistakable sound of JJ trying to get a few strands of Jeremy’s hair out of his mouth was what brought him out of his reminiscing. He made his way toward the couch in order for the cat to hop off and have a place to reside for some amount of time.

Jeremy took off his backpack and propped it against the side of the couch when discovering the basket of laundry he had been informed of. It had been hours, possibly even days since the load and been taken out of the dryer, so the clothing unfortunately wasn’t warm. That didn’t deter him though.

While he was weary of blindly reaching into the basket for some form of sleepwear and mistakenly grabbing something else, he recognized the scent of that fabric softener that he could never place the name of. He wanted to say it was lavender, but was never quite fully sure. Regardless, he knew that whatever he ended up wearing would be beyond nirvana-like. 

Michael said Jeremy could find something to wear in there, so he could trust him and not worry about being tricked into grabbing, like, one of his moms’ skirts, or something. And so he reached in. And he didn’t have to shuffle around for long to come across a pair of sweatpants, one where its pant legs splayed out at the bottom similarly to bell bottoms, and one of Michael’s Star Wars shirts. They were probably Michael’s sweatpants as well. This was probably Michael’s laundry.

That would make sense.

While Jeremy’s heart swelled at the idea of wearing Michael’s clothing, he couldn’t help but feel that that would be crossing those boundaries that (apparently) only he thought would be there. Should he really be borrowing his friend’s clothes when they’d only reconciled some twenty-seven-ish hours ago? Or, a week and twenty-seven-ish hours if you consider Michael making an entrance at The Play? Either way, it almost seemed like too much too fast.

But, Michael suggested it to Jeremy. He said he could borrow some clothes from the basket. Why would he bring up the idea if he wasn’t ok with the concept? Why was Jeremy worrying so much? Michael was being cool. He was being more chill than Jeremy ever was, with or without a SQUIP.

‘Chill,’ there’s gotta be a better word. A word that won’t remind Jeremy of his brain parasite.

Pushing through the doubt, he concluded that he could wear the shirt and sweats without it being weird for Michael. It wasn’t that he didn’t WANT to wear his clothes, it was already established that he did. Jeremy simply didn’t know if MICHAEL wanted him to wear his clothes. But again, he suggested it, so he clearly didn’t mind.

So he began changing and everything was fine. More than fine. The fabric softener really did wonders at making the odor of pot slightly dampened. (Familiar and nostalgic as the scent may be, it still wasn’t necessarily the most pleasant of smells.) And because sniffing your best friend’s clothing when you’re simply borrowing them for a night is creepy and weird and really non-platonic, Jeremy plopped onto the couch and distracted himself with certain tasks on his phone.

First thing’s first, I’m the realist.

Just kidding.

First thing’s first, turn Do Not Disturb OFF and LEAVE IT OFF. Never again will it be turned on and forgotten about. Ever.

Second, a certain spelling mistake should be addressed.

 

Nov 20, 2015, 3:19 PM

Jeremy:  
<Think you should know that I spelled your last name as Losht instead of Lohst so whenever I think of that spelling error I shtart shpeaking with a shpeech impediment>

Brooke is Losht:  
<Sherioushly Jeremy? You’re sho inconshiderate, I exshpected better from you>

Jeremy:  
<That wash a mishtake and you should shuffer for your shinsh>

Brooke is Losht:  
<Losht washed a washp>

Jeremy:  
<That’sh a brutal tongue twishter>

Brooke is Losht:  
<{imagine the amidst the mist thing from rehearsal}  
<Amidsht the misht ash cold ash frosht he thrushed hish fisht against the posht and shtill inshishtsh he sheesh a ghosht>

Jeremy:  
<I will give you a medal if you can shay that five timesh fasht>  
<IRL, don’t jusht copy and pashte it>

Brooke is Losht:  
<Damn>

Jeremy:  
<Ha>  
<It’sh alMOSHT like I kNOW that trick>

Brooke is Losht:  
<Curshe you Jeremiah>

Jeremy:  
<I have been curshed>

Brooke is Losht:  
<Good>

 

Third thing, Jeremy would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in what Jake’s Totally Effective Warning Text read. It was a doozy, so he scrolled up to get the full experience.

 

Nov 20, 2015, 9:09 AM

Jake Dick-Licker:  
<Dearest Jeremiah,  
<Yer ma and the resta yer fam hope this txt finds you well. Yer sista Chloe made a relly good chocolate n possum cake nd we et it all gone an thought of you. Yer sis cried. Ya know u favorit cow? The one tht milks strawbury? Well, it died. We suspect yer brother Richard had sumthin to do wit it. So, we et the cow too ad thought of you. Yer sis made cry. I hate to tell ya like this, yer third cousin thrice removed, Brooke, died te otha day. She fell into th fishin pond on account of not bein able ta swim n all, she startd flailin abowt. Four strong men tried ta save her but she fought them off bravely and drownerded. We et her all gone and thought of you. Chloe cries n hopes you come home soon. That’s all I hav ta say. Here’s Ma on the phone now talkin to ya

Love, Pa>  
<Jenna Rolan texting. That all is Jake’s way of saying that Chloe really wants to see you to talk about Halloween. She’s realized her true bitchiness and plans to explain her actions. You’ll probz be pulled out of second period. Don’t be alarmed. Love ya son  
<Sincerely, Ma>

 

Called it with the illiterate Puritan thing, or whatever Jake was going for. And Ma Jenna is best Jenna. And best Ma. Jenna is best Ma.

Third and a half, a few-hours late reply to the Totally Effective Warning Text.

 

Nov 20, 2015, 3:25 PM

Jeremy:  
<Do you even have autocorrect??>

Jake Dick-Licker:  
<Almost>

Jeremy:  
<?????>

Jake Dick-Licker:  
<Precisely>

Jeremy:  
<You too>

Jake Dick-Licker:  
<Well said>

Jeremy:  
<Also Chloe bet on me being asexual but like... October 31??>

Jake Dick-Licker:  
<Drunk Chloe is a force to be reckoned with>  
<More than you know>

Jeremy:  
<I’ll take your word for it>

 

Fourth, the last minute memorial service.

 

Nov 20, 2015, 3:27 PM

Jeremy:  
<RIP in peashe my third coushin thrishe removed>

Brooke is Losht:  
<Resht In Peashe in peashe?>

Jeremy:  
<Yesh>

Brooke is Losht:  
<Hmmm>  
<Valid>

 

Fifth, reply to a brand new message from Chloe, of all people.

 

Nov 20, 2015, 3:27 PM

Valentine’s Day:  
<I am so officially done with everything I’m at the mall with Brooke and Madeline’s over here singing flecking Christmas music and I’m sitting here like “I’ll dEck your face you stu-pid whore you- fa la la la laaa la I hate you”>  
<That was meant for Jenna I misclicked>  
<But now you feel my pain I guess>

Jeremy:  
<You don’t have to wait until December to don some gay apparel, some people wear it year round>

Valentine’s Day:  
<Are... are you talking about antisocial headphones kid with his rainbow patch?>

Jeremy:  
<Yup>

Valentine’s Day:  
<Omg that’s so clever I hate it hhhhhh>

Jeremy:  
<You’re welcome>

 

Sixth...

Um, actually, Jeremy couldn’t think of a sixth thing.

Or, he could, but he didn’t know if it would be the right thing to do. He could reply to some certain other messages that he couldn’t get to earlier, but...

“Wow. Those are so big on you.” The very same person Jeremy was thinking of messaging piped up. He hadn’t heard him come down the steps, so he flinched slightly at the sound of his voice. Michael arched an eyebrow at the other boy’s new attire, or at the pants, more accurately. “Do you even have feet?”

Jeremy looked down to see what prompted his friend to doubt that he had platforms under his ankles to stand on. Sure enough, the wide openings at the bottom of the pants covered up his feet perfectly. That’s kinda the sort of thing that happens when you’re a literal twig and your not-literal-twig friend (who is also a little taller than you) lets you wear their clothes. “Nope. No feet. Just stumps.” He soon answered.

“Ya having fun on your phone there, you useless millennial?”

“We’re not millennials, we’re Gen Z, ok?”

Michael sighed longingly, sitting at half the couch’s length away from his friend. “Gen Z-er doesn’t have the same ring to it though.”

“True,” Jeremy agreed plainly before that good ol’ anxiety started kicking in. He was having fun on his phone at that moment, but one point earlier in the day was still eating away at the very back of his mind. “I um...” He started, locking his phone and waving it around blankly. How was he supposed to say this? Should he say this? “I didn’t see the texts, until... Until today.”

Michael looked confused by that at first. It had been a while since even his most recent messages, Jeremy couldn’t have blamed him for forgetting about sending them. “Wh-? Oh, right, um.” He began rubbing the back of his neck. Apparently he did remember. “I uh, went a little trigger happy, didn't I?”

The other boy hummed noncommittally. “I guess if you consider ninety-eight messages trigger happy.” He mumbled soon after. Michael hissed a cringe through his teeth. “That’s almost a hundred.” He muttered more to himself than to Jeremy, who nodded. He was beginning to feel mocked by the fragrance of Mary Jane lingering in the air. (Not the dolphin, though she was stored away in Jeremy’s backpack.)

Great, awkward tension. It was bound to happen at some point or another. Impressive that it took as long as it did though. This was probably the universe’s way of saying that it was time that Jeremy and Michael talk about the last several weeks and sort things out. There was a painful lack of communication there after all.

Which was completely and utterly Jeremy’s fault. He wanted to right that wrong by being the first to break that silence streak. But again, where would he even start? How much information did Michael need? What would be considered oversharing? At what point do details become unimportant?

“You good?” Michael asked gently. That probably meant that Jeremy was staring into space in the way that gave away the fact that he was internally battling with himself. It was a battle that he could eventually win, but it took a coping mechanism that was a little unhealthy at best.

“I wanna get so stoned I can't tell left from right.”

But hey, it could ease the tension of talking over things.

“Honestly though, me too.”

Maybe Michael agreed.

\---

Jeremy honestly didn’t know how much he missed being high until this very moment.

He didn’t smoke while SQUIPped, it just didn’t happen. It may or may not have been because drugs messed with it in a similar fashion to alcohol. He didn’t think anything of it at the time, but damn was he now realizing how nice it was to dull the edge of everything for a little while. And damn did it make everything taste amazing.

The snack pantry was inevitably raided and scattered all over the now-pulled out and blanket-fied couch. Various chips and Zebra Cakes were devoured mercilessly without even a single survivor. They fought bravely amongst their perfectly packaged brethren but alas, it was all for naught. However, they died honorably doing what they were artificially manufactured to do: get eaten by stoners.

Jeremy gasped at some new revelation, rolling onto his stomach and leaning in unreasonably close to face Michael. “Dudedudedudedudedudedude!”

His spectacles were set aside on a nearby coffee table for reasons that didn’t particularly matter to Jeremy, given that it was easier to admire all of his friend’s features.

_(“Hey, Jeremy.”_

_“Hey what?”_

_Michael had dramatically swiped his glasses off his face, wiggling his eyebrows. “I can’t see shit.”_

_Jeremy had snickered and smacked him with a pillow. “You’re a dork.” He had said lovely enough that it could be passed off as a joke.)_

“Whatwhatwhatwhatwhatwhat?”

“A fork with three prongs should be called a threek.”

Michael’s already half-lidded eyes were covered fully before widening to fully show his red-tinted scleras. “Dude!”

“Right?!”

“Why’d you have to be close to say that though?”

Jeremy tilted his head curiously. “Yer not wearin’ yer glasses? I thought you needed‘a see me?” He had no problem being closer to Michael when he wasn’t wearing his glasses. All the better to see his pretty face with. And it wasn’t hurting anything. He assumed his friend would need things to be closer to him to be able to see them, including people, including himself. Ergo, this was helpful to all parties present.

“You’re not even two feet away from my face, I can see you fine.” Michael said, comedically sliding into a sort of New York accent. Jeremy supposed it was sort of a joking ‘you’re dumb’ tone. He chuckled at it and situated himself at a slightly more reasonable distance from his friend, who was now bullshitting a tangled up blanket over his shoulders.

Jeremy took into account Michael’s current position, finding it to be a good one. He grabbed one of many pillows that’d also been tossed onto couch and laid stomach-down on top of it. ‘Twas a plump pillow indeed, he noticed. He found a blanket unnecessary though, he was already set and content with wearing Michael’s hoodie.

_(“God, it’s freezing down here.” Jeremy had said, rubbing his hands up and down his bare arms to warm them with some sort of friction. “Didn’t you bring a jacket or cardigan or something?” Michael had asked after a hit of the joint they had been sharing. His weed stash had apparently needed generous restocking. “I swear I saw you with one earlier today.”_

_He had, but Jeremy had discarded it near his backpack after changing clothes. That was only partially on purpose, but he wouldn’t have let Michael know that._

_He had let out a noncommittal noise, a small, selfish part of him hoping that making his answer vague would prompt the good in Michael to help him in some way. The friend in question had hummed in response, followed by silence._

_And a glance at Jeremy._

_Who had been glancing down at Michael’s hoodie._

_And then glancing back up at Michael._

_Waiting._

_Michael had reluctantly taken the hint and moved his hands to the hem of the garment to rid himself of it. “You’re killin’ me, Heere.” He had said in mock annoyance, pulling up the patch-decorated fabric. Mission accomplished._

_“Shut up, you love me.”_

_“Unfortunately.” The signature red hoodie had been thrown at Jeremy without much other comment until Michael had risen to his feet, passing off the joint in addition. “Ima get some blankets for your paper-thin flesh, you twiggy thing you.”_

_“Thank.”)_

It was nice though. The worse of the tension had been eased by drugs, even if there was that subtle, paper cut-like sting still lingering in the air. Things felt as though they’d gone back to normal. But not quite. It shouldn’t have been that easy. It felt far too easy. Shouldn’t there have been more... maybe not necessarily anger, but something? Something to say that the last two and a half months had actually happened and shouldn’t be ignored, no matter how much easier it would feel to do so.

Don’t get Jeremy wrong, he liked that things weren’t as tense as they could have been, but again, it felt too easy. Like a cheap cop out, an undeserved Get Out Of Jail Free Card, a trick question that took more wit than he had to solve it. And he was about to address it and probably regret addressing it until...

“Wanna know somethin’ stupid?” Michael asked, apparently infatuated by a really interesting patch of empty space on the wall.

He didn’t have to. Probably for the best.

Jeremy propped his head up on the pillow underneath him, demonstrating his own (quite obvious) infatuation with Michael. “What?” Part of him was starting to become glad that Michael had spoken up before he got the chance.

Whether it was intentional or not, a byproduct of pot or not, Michael’s gaze was still trained on the far wall. “I was really dramatic about you leaving. More than I may have led on in the-thethe Halloween.” Maybe he was lightly laughing at his stumbling over words, maybe he was lightly laughing to cover something up. “It eventually got to the point where I made a music playlist for how upset I was.”

That was pretty dramatic, but not unreasonable or unlike Michael. And there it was. They’d gotten onto the topic. Isn’t that what Jeremy wanted? Didn’t he want to be sadistic for a bit? Wait, no, sadism was enjoying other people’s pain, clearly not Jeremy. What was seeking out your own pain? Masochism? Yeah, he was trying to be masochistic.

Right?

“What kinda stuff was on it?” Jeremy asked quietly, though he wasn’t quite sure if he wanted to know. He didn’t know how much more he could take of knowing that he was the cause of so much of Michael’s unhappiness for so long. So was he being a masochist or not? Did he want to make himself suffer because he totally deserved it or not? He blamed Mary Jane for his indecision. Which one was at fault was up for debate.

“Lots of angsty shit. Some Evanescence, some of this, some of that, Somebody That I Used To Know.”

Jeremy squinted at him. “That’s a breakup song though?”

“Ninety percent of songs these days are love songs in some form or another,” Michael deadpanned, eyes finally meeting Jeremy’s. “Didn’t exactly have much to work with under the platonic category.”

That was true. And any song purely platonic could also still be taken as romantic. Like a friends-to-lovers type of thing. Could a song like that have worked for the playlist? No, wait, not for the friendship ending. Songs like that didn’t exist as far as Jeremy was aware. Yeah ok, Michael didn’t have much to work with after all.

“I’m sorry.”

It was Michael’s turn to squint at Jeremy. “Why? You didn’t write any of those songs.”

That apology could’ve been timed better, admittedly.

“No, I mean, I’m sorry.”

And admittedly, that clarification didn’t help much.

“For... what?”

“Everything. Like,” The ‘like’ was slightly louder. “Literally, everything.” Jeremy, even in his extremely high state, could still tell he was about to go on a tangent. “And you can say that it’s fine or you forgive me or some shit, but I’m always gonna feel bad. And I’m always gonna wanna say sorry even if it feels like it doesn’t do anything.”

He thought back to The Play. Thought back to Michael’s inopportune demand for an apology. What felt like yesterday, but was really over a week ago.

 

_“It’s a word!”_

_“It’s a gesture, gestures matter!”_

 

When you get right down to it, neither of them were wrong. “And you’re right about sorry being a gesture, but it’s also still just a word. And words can’t fix anything but damn, they can destroy everything. And no amount of sorrys will erase the... loser, I called you.” How Jeremy was doing so well at not tripping over his words was anyone’s guess. How he was being as poetic as he was was also anyone’s guess. “How did you even deal after I left?”

Michael lent a short laugh. Nervous? Amused? Stoned? All of the above? “After you left, the word ‘loser’ was rattling around in my head, and I kinda had an existential crisis about... a few things.” He waved a hand around lazily. “‘Why wouldn’t he listen to me? Is this the end for us? Is he finally all that, a bag’a chips and more? Has he finally discovered his true potential without me?’”

The guilt knife returned, twisting about mercilessly. Isn’t this what Jeremy wanted? Didn’t he want to fully know how horribly his actions had affected Michael? Didn’t he want to be a masochist? He did until he was informed of what that entailed. Part of him didn’t want to know more. Another part to him knew that this was the absolute bare minimum he deserved.

“Then kinda a lot of stuff about how sucky I am and all,” Michael’s joint-holding hand weakly waved around as well. “‘Oh, he’s living the life without me, it was only a matter of time before he realized how much I’ve been holding him back’ and blah blah blabbity blah, stupid shit like that, I dunno.” He gave a humorless laugh, similar to the one of just moments ago. The only acceptable laugh he could have given, because Jeremy couldn’t find any more humor in the situation than Michael.

In fact, less humor. Less humor because his actions and behavior toward him on Halloween were nothing to laugh it. Nothing short of unacceptable. “Might’ve cried. Don’t remember. Wouldn’t surprise me if I did. I probably did, truthfully.”

_Thump._

That.

That’s the sound of Michael’s words punching into Jeremy’s chest. Saying that he was put into a state of shock would be a gross understatement. This was an effective way of proving that he was anything but a sadist. The masochist thing was still yet to be determined though. “Michael, you... you effectively had a panic attack.”

A beat of silence. A blink. “Huh...” Michael turned his head to Jeremy. “Did I? I thought they were like, your thoughts overwhelm you to the point that you can’t function.”

That’s kinda the scenario he had just described, but regardless.

“Those are MY panic attacks, dude, and they’re over stupid little things that are stupid and I know they’re stupid but I’m freaking out over them anyway because I’m stupid.” Refer back to Error 404: Today’s Date Not Found. “Besides, you know that I’ve self-deprecated myself into insanity too. And I mean, th-they’re different for everyone but that, that- I dunno, sounds really, really bad, I-”

Jeremy facepalmed. “God, I can’t say it enough, I am so, so stupidly sorry, Michael.” His voice broke a little, but he powered through. “There’s a first time for everything but dammit, panic attacks should not have a first.” He shook his head in self-disapproval. “Figures that I’M the one that has to be the cause of yours. Of flecking course.”

Because of Michael’s psychic abilities to see that Jeremy was about ready to have is own episode of utter panic, he softly shushed him and his self-hating thoughts. “Hey, look, man, your SQUIP was a factor, it’s-”

“Except it wasn’t, not really!” Jeremy cut in, a tad harshly as shown by his friend’s slight flinch. He quieted himself a little before going on. “Th-the alcohol gunked it up, I was flying blind! I panicked and tried to think what it would tell me to do, I-” A frustrated noise at nothing, with his face dropping to his pillow to muffle his words. “I was stupid and severely tipsy. Keep anything vaguely alcoholic at a thirty mile radius away from me.”

His face didn’t need to be exposed for him to know that Michael was sitting there, blunt still in-hand, trying to take everything in. The all too familiar silence was enough of a giveaway.

“So... your SQUIP wasn’t on at all then?”

Jeremy shook his head, letting his face see the light once shifted far enough to one side. “Wouldn’t have ran into the bathroom otherwise.” He almost thought he’d mentioned his SQUIP’s deactivation when he went in.

 

“ _That would explain why you’re talking to me.”_

 

But it was so long ago that he’d understand if Michael forgot or didn’t quite get it for himself. He could see the gears turning in his head, possibly trying to rationalize something. But Jeremy’s actions were beyond salvaging, as Michael was soon to find out. “It didn’t... turn on halfway through or anything?”

Jeremy shook his head again, sadder, if it were possible. His head hung heavy over his pillow in shame.

Unable to make his friend’s bathroom actions justifiable minus his inherent intoxication, Michael’s gaze shifted down to his own pillow silently.“Ok, yeah, uh, the loser thing hurt.” He said in a blunt summary. It stung, whether or not he meant for it to. “But reclaiming the title is still on my to-do list. Might be a slower process now, but it’s not an impossibility.”

“If it’s any consolation, you’re my loser.” Jeremy mumbled at his plump platform, feeling his face grow warmer at his own wording.

What was weird about that wording exactly though...?

Oh.

Oh yeah.

Yeah, that implied that he and Michael were a thing. Yeah no, that wasn’t true at all. Shit. And Michael knew this. And he found the wording to be off as well. “...huh?”

“I-I dunno, forget it.” Jeremy backpedaled, waving a hand.

“No, did...” He cut in once more, earnestly. “Did you call me ‘your’ loser?” He didn’t sound upset at all, nor hurt, nor any other emotion to that effect. More curious, if nothing else. Seeking clarification, but a little more than that. Jeremy couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but it wasn’t bad, so he rolled with it. “L-lil bit...” Was that any better than Michael being any other loser? Was it just as bad an insult? Was that even worse of an insult? How was Jeremy to know?

Dreadful silence.

“Ok.”

Jeremy squinted up at his friend. “Ok? As in like, you’re ok with that and you aren’t silently suffering on the inside?”

“Yeah.”

“‘Yeah’ you are ok or ‘yeah’ you’re silently suffering?”

“I-“ Michael squinted back and gave a crooked smile. “It’s fine, Jer, I mean it.” Safe. Barely. Barely is better than not at all. He took another long drag from his joint, and this time, the silence that followed it wasn’t anxiety-inducing. There was a sense of security there. “I guess what was more overwhelming was all the people knocking and making me feel pressured to get the hell outta dodge. I was about to answer, but I guess they eventually gave up left.”

The sense of security that Jeremy briefly felt was even briefer than he was afraid. Serves him right for getting his hopes up. “So I was left to wallow in peace until I couldn’t see the point in staying at Jake’s place. Maybe whoever was knocking found another place to piss or barf or whatever. Heard through a grapevine that Madeline ended up vomiting in a vase, maybe it was her.”

Michael had said it all as though it were a humorous thing that could be viewed on the bright side, which was what he thought it was, and what it should have been... but the look of utter horror on Jeremy’s face could have only meant one thing.

And Jeremy knew he knew what that one thing was.

Because that horror was etching itself into Michael’s features as he was connecting the dots.

“...don’t tell me that was you...” He murmured, newfound pain in his eyes.

“That was me...” Jeremy breathed, voice wavering, just above a whisper. The pure inconvenient timing of it was painful to say the best of it. “I... was gonna apologize for being a dick. You didn’t answer, so I thought you’d left.”

That soul-crushing pain in his friend’s eyes told him that the misunderstanding and miscommunication had more layers than he’d thought. “You stopped knocking, I thought YOU’D left.”

And there it was. The 2x4 of NO SHIT™ smacked Jeremy upside the head as he remembered back to Jenna’s Halloween 2015 video. How Michael had left the house after the Whitney Houston sing-along. After Jeremy left.

AFTER he left.

AFTER.

Not before.

NOT.

Before.

Jeremy found himself hanging his head back over his pillow in shame yet again. How could he have been so stupid? “Wish I’d kept knocking.” It was said pleadingly, praying to whoever was listening that he could turn back time and live in a future where he and Michael had reunited at the party. Where they had talked things out immediately.

Where Jeremy had deactivated his SQUIP immediately.

“Wish I’d answered sooner.” Michael added. “Or... at all, I guess.” The same guilt the previously SQUIPped boy had felt crept its way into his veins, also longing for an outcome where things were resolved much sooner than they were.

“We’re... idiots.”

“Oblivious idiots.”

“Obliv-iots.”

Damn half-assed wordplay.

Michael lent a sad smile at the mashed up word though. “Never change again, Jeremy, please.”

Jeremy shot a short smile his way. “I don’t intend to. Ever again.” His smile drooped when recollecting any and all the changes he went through when SQUIPped. “Hindsight is a bitch.” He murmured his thoughts out loud. “Truly.” Michael agreed solemnly. How much could he relate to Jeremy’s embarrassment? Did he have his own reasons to agree? What were those reasons?

“Question.”

Jeremy looked his way. “Shoot.”

His head was fully on his pillow, gaze at a point on the couch over Jeremy’s shoulder. He was processing, thinking over his words. “At what point did you not want your SQUIP anymore?” A short laugh. “I was planning on helping you at The Play whether you liked it or not, but you called me.” His tone shifted at the second half of the phrase. “Now tell me if I’m wrong, but that told me you wanted my help. Or at the very least, you didn’t hate me or want to ignore me.”

“I did want your help. I never hated you or wanted to ignore you.”

“So why did you?”

Once again, the comeback stung.

“I get that your SQUIP had something to do with it,” Michael looked the other boy in the eyes blankly. “But in what way?”

The sting would’ve nearly been sickening if not for the constant reminder that even though Jeremy made the decision to turn optic nerve blocking on, it wasn’t his first option.

He buzzed his lips, annoyed at himself for ever agreeing to his SQUIP’s instructions. He mocked the computer accordingly. “‘You need to get popular, Jeremy, you need to upgrade, you gotta make sacrifices, Michael’s a link to Jeremy 1.0, blehhh, block him out, optic nerve blocking, poof!” He mimed a mini explosion in front of him. “Now you’re being a dickwad manipulating Brooke and making her think you like her!’”

If Michael were wearing his glasses, they would definitely be severely askew due to his head’s current placement on the pillow. His whole face almost looked askew, especially with one of his eyebrows arched to make his features look that little bit more crooked. “Wow. That’s really dickwady.” He deadpanned.

“Truth.” Jeremy agreed. “I’ve already had a hating myself hour about that, but it’s been sorted out now. I talked to her and she was unrealistically understanding.” He wondered if his SQUIP being briefly linked to everyone else’s had anything to do with it, but waved the When I’m Not Stoned topic away with a hand. “Beside the point.” The whole point was to answer when he’d gotten the reality check to distrust his SQUIP. “I guess it got to a point where I realized... I need you.”

Sober Jeremy wouldn’t have let himself say that, but the point of Sober Jeremy had been exceeded quite some time ago. Stoned Jeremy was Heere and well on his way to saying things of questionable platonic... ness. Platonicallity? No, that’s not a word. Regardless, the point stood.

Michael had apparently caught the non-platonic (un-platonic?) connotations behind Jeremy saying he needed him and raised his head at this. His expression was hard to read. It walked a fine line between touched and confused. (Touchfused? Contouched?) It seems to lean more toward the latter side than the former, if teetering back and forth a bit. “You... huh? I don’t... know if I follow.”

Jermey shrugged reluctantly. “Admittedly, that wasn’t my exact thought process. I guess after Halloween and after the sort of shock of the fire- actually, wait, did those gloves ever make it out?”

There’s a super ADD moment.

Michael squinted at Jeremy in confusion (or he was just really high, no one’s to say) before squinting at nothing in thought. “Ah shit, bruh, naw.”

The latter boy waved it off. “Don’t even care. Literally don’t ev- as long as you’re- I- they- were falling apart anyway, you- you’re more important than-than those dumb gloves. Anyway I’m, getting off track, um... after Halloween, I started... seeing you...” Michael blinked in utter confusion. (He was really confused. Seriously, how much of a shocker was all of this to him?) Little did he know that Jeremy would be addressing the very discrepancy that he was thinking of. “And I now know that wasn’t you, but a... hallucination the SQUIP made.”

His friend’s facial thought process, as it could be called, was similar to that of at The Play. When the SQUIP was playing puppet master with Jeremy up to the point when he finally broke free from its spell to tell Michael that he wasn’t in full control. He wasn’t currently confangry, that implied feeling both confused and angry at the same time. No, Michael went from confused to angry in a matter of a couple seconds. “It made you halluci-”

“Nothing like-! Abusive, or mentally scarring, or anything!” Jeremy said hastily. Michael didn’t need to get the impression that the SQUIP was worse than it actually was, if only for the fact that it would give him more stress than he needed. The SQUIP was an ass, don’t get him wrong, but he didn’t need his friend worrying more than he had been over the past week. Or longer. “Just, you.”

He partially regretted that phrasing, ‘just’ almost sounding as though it was downplaying Michael in some way. That was anything but the truth. Though that very boy didn’t seem to see the same trouble in the statement that Jeremy did. Not downplaying his false presence, but overplaying it. “Just me?”

“Like, you ignoring me sort of thing.” Jeremy elaborated while waving a finger at himself and Michael. “‘M sure it wasn’t nearly as bad as what you went through. Positive, actually. It went on longer for you and other shit. But um... yeah.”

“Yeah?” Michael prompted. There might have been more to say there, but what? What could Jeremy say that wouldn’t turn into a huge rant that gets completely derailed into a bunch of apologies for different things? He supposed his best bet was to stay as on topic as he could.

Biggest topic at hand being the SQUIP.

“That was during The Play, before you showed up. It all but told me it was making me see you and that you hadn’t actually been at school since before Halloween. And...”

There was definitely more he could say, but should he? “For a moment, it led me to believe that you’d...”

He bit his bottom lip anxiously. He couldn’t bring himself to say the words, afraid that hearing them would make them become a reality. “...done something.” Jeremy couldn’t say anything more specific.

Apparently, he didn’t need to.

If Michael’s expression was any indicator, he understood.

“You thought I’d...?”

“I was overreacting! But the SQUIP didn’t confirm or deny it so I thought it was true by default!”

“Jeremy, I-” Michael pressed himself up. “I wouldn’t do that.” He said earnestly, now sitting up fully. “Even if you did hate my guts, I wouldn’t-” His speech slowed the slightest amount. “I... like to think, I wouldn’t...”

‘Like to think?’ And the award forUnsettling Wording goes to...

Michael shook the scenario away. “But that’s not what happened, so I’d rather not explore that thought.”

“Ditto.” Jeremy quickly agreed. He’d like to steer as far from that topic as humanly possible, thank you very much.

“And yet... you called me?”

Ah yes, yet another lingering topic that was only half addressed. Jeremy was able to find some of the humor there, however little of it there may have been.

“I slapped some sense into myself and thought, ‘this thing would totally plant bad thoughts in my head to spite me,’ and while I still had doubts, you were my best bet. If you hadn’t come to The Play, if you hadn’t shown up when you did... I don’t know where I’d be.”

“I don’t either.”

“You don’t know where you’d be?”

“I don’t know where you’d be.” Michael corrected him. “I mean I wouldn’t know where I’d be either, but I meant you the first time.” Jeremy smiled halfheartedly. Him not being the awkward one was a nice breath of fresh air.

“Anyway, the whole hallucination thing kinda made me think of how much of my life you’re normally a part of. As horrible as this sounds, it was kinda, ‘outta sight, outta mind’ when you were being blocked.” He found himself fiddling with the oversized sleeves that engulfed his slender fingers. “But then I could see you and it was different. I realized how often you’re there and how often we make dumb faces at each other during class.”

Some weak chuckles from both parties. “Really, me seeing you and you not seeing me was like... I can only imagine how much worse it was for you. And again, it sort of hit me how much you impact me and what I do, what I’m like, how I’m feeling.”

Michael blinked curiously, tilting his head slightly to the side as he scooted closer to his friend. “What do you mean by that?” He asked gently.

Jeremy took this as his own cue to sit up. The two were now sitting with their backs against the couch, the way it was intended to be sat on had it not been in bed form. “I mean...” He continued uncertainly. How was he supposed to say this? His head lazily dropped to Michael’s shoulder as he thought over his words. “What’s a Player Two without his Player One?”

He didn’t get an immediate answer from him, save for maybe a slight stiffen. “There... isn’t one? That’s dark. Don’t listen to that.” Michael corrected himself in haste, but Jeremy lazily laughed it off. He probably shouldn’t have. But he did. Humorless, really. “Well, that’s not exactly wrong. At the very least, I’m not the same without you there.”

A short hum. “Guess I can see that.” The statement was followed by Michael’s head resting atop Jeremy’s, and Jeremy was half-tempted to nuzzle deeper into the crook of his neck. What could he say? It’d be a perfect fit.

But there he stayed. And there Michael stayed. Both of them with their heads resting on the other. Looking at different points in the room. Where Michael could be looking was beyond Jeremy, but he kept his gaze focused on their shared blunt resting on the edge of the ashtray. In a weird way, it looked like idle incense, a simple bystander there to calm the tense mood of the area.

In a weird way, that’s what it was.

“Ya wanna know what convinced me to go to The Play?”

It didn’t come out excitably, nor calmly. Not loudly or quietly, nor anything in between. It simply manifested into the air and reverberated at its own tone and its own volume.

“What?”

The reply was much similar to that of the inquiry. Not excitable or calm, not loud nor quiet, but standing alone as its own entity.

“You. In Jenna’s livestream. Begging for help.”

Jeremy blinked incredulously, turning his head up to Michael. “Really?” He’d hoped someone would see his cry for help, but didn’t really expect anyone to. What a miracle. “Was probably in the frame for like, three seconds, max.”

Michael shrugged casually. Not so much as to disturb his friend’s resting position, but enough to he this point across. Enough for the movement to be known. “‘Tsall it took.”

How had he taken it seriously? How had he known that Jeremy really was in danger? How had he known that his cry for help was genuine?

Oh that’s right, because it was Michael. And Michael knew everything there was to know about Jeremy. He knew when he was being serious. He knew what true distress looked like. He knew all too well. Of course he’d be able to tell that Jeremy was being serious. Of course he’d know that he was really in danger. Of course he’d know that his cry for help was genuine. 

Of course he’d know. It was Michael goddamn Mell.

And Michael goddamn Mell decided to move unexpectedly, causing Jeremy to limply fall into his lap. Each of them stifled something between a laugh and something of a yelp. Jeremy’s face was no doubt changing color to a dark pink, which Michael goddamn Mell was no doubt seeing very clearly.

This lead into quite the cheery conversation.

“So. You come here often?”

“I live here.”

“I don’t.”

“...this is your house, Michael.”

“...Oh yeah, it is. Wait, you live here?”

“Yeah, and you don’t?”

This made the boys laugh, knowing to some degree how silly they were being. Or to put it in Jeremy’s words, “We’re stupid.” He let out between giggles.

“Are you saying that to be self-deprecating?”

“It’s not self-deprecation if it’s true.”

Michale lightly pushed the side of Jeremy’s forehead away with the heel of his hand. “Oh shush, don’t say that.”

“No, I refuse.” He also refused to have more space between himself and his friend than was necessary. This was demonstrated by him leaning in to wrap his arms around Michael’s waist to the best of his ability, given the strange angle. Michael did everything in his power to support the leech that’d just decided to latch onto him. “You’re super cuddly today.” He chucked. “Sup with that?”

Jeremy couldn’t give much of an answer. Or he could, it just didn’t seem like the smartest choice to give that answer. “I dunno,” He excused thickly. “I guess I’m in a huggy mood cuz I missed you like... a metric shit-ton.”

It wasn’t a lie.

“You ‘bout to cry?”

“No, I’m just being whiny to tug at your heart strings.” There was a thin lining of sarcasm that Michael may or may not have picked up on. If he did, he played along well. If he didn’t, sucks for him. His reply could have been read either way. “For the record, it’s working.” He half-mumbled.

“Good. Or, something, I don't know.”

“How high are you, dude?”

“I don’t remember, like, five-foot-seven?”

“Stoned off your ass, good to know.”

Jeremy didn’t quite know how accurate the statement was. He was a lightweight, yeah, but he’d built up something of a tolerance for weed. Part of a blunt shouldn’t have gotten him so high. Could not having smoked in nearly three months have affected that? He didn’t know and he didn’t think he’d ever know.

He didn’t think he’d ever care to know either. “Yup. Deal with it.”

As long as he didn’t have to go another day as the slave to a voice in his head, he didn’t mind staying ignorant to such things. Jeremy may have projected this into the unrealistic (at least by his own standards) strength of his grip around his friend.

“Jesus, man, you’re gonna hug all the air out of me.”

“Nice Matilda reference.”

“Is that what it is? I heard Slushee Girl say it once.”

“Well Slushee Girl’s seen Matilda.” The blankets shifted to signify an approaching challenger. “Hi, Buttlick.” Jeremy greeted the cat, holding out his hand to pet him. JJ sniffed his fingertips and walked right on past him.

Michael snickered. “He's like ‘nnnope.’”

“He's like ‘aah, gay!’”

“JJ's a homo sssssssapien.”

Jeremy shot straight up, pushing off of his friend and blinking at him incredulously. “No he’s not!”

“Wait, shit, what’s the word?”

“No he’s not!”

“I know! I couldn’t think of the word!”

The sweater-clad teen pressed his hands together in a ‘processing’ sort of way. “It’s like, you were about to say homophobe-”

“That’s what I meant!”

“But then it sounded like you were gonna say homosexual... and then you pulled the biggest plot twist of the millennium and said Homo sapien.”

“I need’a go to sleep.” Michael reached his arms out to his cat welcomingly. “C’mere, kitty, sleep with me.”

At this, Jeremy snorted loudly. “Damn, and you call me a furry.”

Michael, understanding the absurdity and double meaning of the claim he just made, smirked up at his friend. “Jer, there is nothing wrong with me expressing that I want to sleep with my cat.”

“You have incompatible genitals!”

“His stupid corkscrew dick. Wait-”

“That’s ducks!” Jeremy laughed. 

“It is ducks, geez! Cats are barbed! God, I’m stupid today.”

“So first he was a Homo sapien and now he's a duck!”

“Illuminati confirmed.”

“Illumin-” It was such a bold claim that Jeremy couldn’t help but laugh at it. “We all love our resident Homo cat duck.”

“JJ’s having an identity crisis!” Michael gestured to the one-eyed feline. “Look at ‘im! He’s terrified!”

One look at JJ showed him with one of his back legs in the air, granting himself better access to lick himself. “Oh horror!” The other boy responded, putting the two into another fit of laughter. There was no doubt that they’d reached a certain level of high. 

And this? This felt great. It was as if the SQUIP had never happened. Of course a small part of Jeremy knew that it still impacted his life, he was just able to ignore it for the time being. He was able to enjoy himself fully. He’d had laughs with Jenna before she got SQUIPped, but the SQUIP wasn’t gone nor did it feel that way.

But this? This was what Jeremy needed. And it was what Michael needed too. They needed each other. They needed to get together and make things ok. They needed no interference from the SQUIP in any way, shape or form. They needed to get together and be the absolute dorks that they were. They needed to be the idiots that Jenna so lovingly dubbed them to be just yesterday afternoon.

They needed this.

The seconds passed into minutes. The minutes passed into hours. The hours passed by in a flurry of making up for lost time. Making up for all the jokes to be made. Making up for all the weird wordplay and comebacks. Making up for all the fun and joy Jeremy could have been feeling but didn’t.

And this?

This more than made up for it.

This was more than he ever could have hoped to get, in such a short amount of time too. He was beginning to rest easily into the fact that this was a better situation to be in than the shit-show that was the SQUIP. He’d never take what he now had for granted ever again.

Michael was reaching for the nearly forgotten joint, saying something about finishing it off when a thought crossed Jeremy’s mind. How could he take an already great time and make it even greater?

And then he was stricken - striked? Struck? Stucken? - he was hit with a great idea. He turned his body to Michael, sitting cross-legged. “Hey, dude. Dudedudedudedude.”

“Yes, Dudedudedudedude?”

“Let’s shotgun.”

It looked for a moment like Michael choked on a heaping helping of air. Then it looked like he was trying to blink a whole lot of nothing out of his eyes. Then it seemed like his cheeks flushed the slightest amount. And then to play all of this off, Michael cocked an eyebrow that held an unreadable purpose. “You’re a big kid though, you can smoke your own blunt.”

“I know.” Jeremy chirped. “I wanna shotgun it.” Then it dawned upon him that it could possibly be outside of Michael’s comfort zone to have their faces in such close proximity after practically three months of radio silence.

Yes, Jeremy was able to ignore the fact that the SQUIP happened well enough in the past little bit, but Michael wasn’t necessarily in the same boat as him. He couldn’t read his mind. Suddenly self-conscious of this possibility, he softly backpedaled. “Can we?”

Making his friend needlessly uncomfortable through a completely avoidable anything was the last thing he wanted to do.

That arched eyebrow seemed to soften in some regard. Michael’s eyes flicked across the room as if looking for a fly. What could’ve been going through his head wasn’t the most clear to Jeremy. Of course, they were both more stoned than they had the right to be. So what was the concept of clear? Eventually, he came to some sort of internal conclusion. “Sure, I guess-”

"Cool." Jeremy swiped the joint out of Michael’s fingertips and brought it between his lips to take a drag, much to Michael’s confusion. To the furthering (is that the correct term? Meh, it is now.) of his confusion, Jeremy climbed over and sat himself down right below the boy’s knees, his own knees placed on either side of Michael’s thighs. Putting a hand on his friend's shoulder to balance himself, he leaned forward and exhaled the smoke he took in into the other teen’s mouth. 

Apparently it had never occurred to Michael that Jeremy could want to be the one shotgunning him. 

Then again, Jeremy had never thought about it until now either. 

And neither one had ever imagined it being this... Nice. 

If Jeremy had known this was what it was like for Michael to be the shotgunner two years ago, then he probably would’ve learned how to smoke his own joint sooner so he could return the favor.

Little did he know that Michael may or may not have been having similar thoughts in regards to himself being the... shotgunned? Shotgunnee?

Sure, let’s go with that.

Not quite knowing when exactly he had closed them, Jeremy’s eyes fluttered open as a small laugh bubbled out of him. That smoke had just been in his mouth and now it was in Michael’s. Ain't that a wild concept? The boy who had just received said smoke breathed it out after a moment, once-apprehensive hands settling onto Jeremy’s waist. Something about the contact made his shy smile widen just that little bit more. 

It seemed kinda like Michael didn’t know what to do with his hands before they sought refuge on Jeremy’s sides. Huh, weird. Perhaps it was delayed shock of him being the one that was shotgunned for once. Perhaps it had something to do with his reddening face. Isn’t that funny?

“What’re ya laughin’ at, bud?” Michael asked... timidly? What would be a better word? Trying to play it cool but not necessarily succeeding? That seemed accurate enough. But why wasn’t there a word for that? Chill? God- not chill, that word is cursed. Regardless, Michael being the awkward one was nice.

“III~ dunno.” Jeremy replied, borderline singsongy. 

Maybe it was Michael being wary of laying his hands on him. Maybe it was the shotgunning role reversal. Maybe it was Michael’s flushed face. Maybe it was seeing more of the details of that flushing face. Maybe it was the idea that Michael could be flustered for some odd reason. 

Flustered about what? What was there for him to be flustered about? Jeremy in his lap? Jeremy shotgunning him? Jeremy’s face so close to his?

Ha.

Stupid.

After a few more heavenly, giggly hits passed by, Jeremy’s forehead met Michael’s as if they were magnetically drawn together. And this, he decided, was in fact, what heaven was like. Smoking in Michael’s basement. Wearing Michael’s soft hoodie. Simply being with Michael. Simply being with Michael was the best thing that Jeremy could imagine.

Seeing Michael’s face up so close was also a bonus. One of the best parts being that there were no glasses to obstruct the wonderful sight before him. Their noses lightly pressed together, making Jeremy wonder how much harder it would be to be this close to his friend if he were wearing his glasses. 

He wondered how much closer he could get since he wasn't wearing them. 

Surely he could express this thought to his best friend, that wouldn’t be weird. They’d known each other long enough that they could talk to each other about anything. Hell, Jeremy was already sitting in Michael’s lap, how much more intimate could things get?

Well, actually, that question doesn't need an answer. The implications behind that are better left unsaid. 

“It is weird that I kinda have the urge to kiss you?” He asked quietly before his brain could stop him. It came out effortlessly, so maybe his brain wouldn’t do a very great job of stopping him at all. Maybe it wasn’t trying to. Maybe it didn't care. 

Michael made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, turning his head to avoid eye contact. It was a little awkward for him considering his and Jeremy’s foreheads were still connected. His nose brushed against Jeremy’s left cheek, something that dusted those very cheeks pink. “Um.” He started breathily. “I think it’s weirder that you haven’t fallen asleep yet. It’s like what, almost midnight? I know we’ve stayed up later, but weed makes you super tired, ya know? And you are definitely too stoned to function.”

Michael’s hands moved just enough to find a better grip on Jeremy to lift him up and off of his lap. And Michael, still rambling about how out of it Jeremy was, taking the insignificant remainder of the joint away, didn’t see his friend give him the look of a betrayed child. A betrayed child that was denied the desire and opportunity to kiss his best friend. A betrayed child that was being lain down by he who would be acting as a temporary and hasty familial figure.

And Jeremy remembered that even though he and Michael were best friends, there were still things that they couldn't talk to each other about. Particularly, the kissing each other kind of things. Because, well, best friends don’t do that kind of thing. Not unless they were also a couple. And Michael wasn’t Jeremy’s boyfriend. And there was no ‘yet’ to put at the end of that fact. Because chances of them ever being a couple were nonexistent. 

Why? Well because Jeremy was the literal worst. And Michael was the literal best. And some opposites aren’t meant to attract. 

Although, Michael just said that Jeremy being awake was weirder than him being tempted to kiss him...

So...

Huh...

What would kissing Michael be like? Why didn’t he find the urge as weird as Jeremy not being asleep yet? Did Michael speak without thinking as to avoid the topic? Was Jeremy overthinking this? (Most likely.) Was Michael rambling? Was it a nervous thing? Was Michael nervous? Why? Was it the thought of Jeremy kissing him? Why was Jeremy fantasizing about kissing Michael when it was blatantly clear that it would never happen?

“W... What’re you smiling at?”

Was Jeremy smiling? He didn’t notice. Or maybe he did. Maybe he was aware of how subtle it was. Either way, he knew why he was. Despite knowing he could never be with The Literal Best, The Literal Worst could still admire him in all his beauty. Because what’s so wrong with that? Would it be such a sin to appreciate Michael in every way he’s allowed?

“...you.”

It came out, once again, effortlessly. 

Michael was silent for a moment before squinting at the boy. “...damn, you smooth...” He whispered. Jeremy couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or a complaint. Jeremy couldn’t have cared less. Jeremy continued to giggle like he was a little school girl because everything was silly. Things did tend to either get silly or emotional with drugs involved. Sometimes in betweens, sometimes not. Hell, look at tonight.

He patted the pillow next to his head, beckoning his best friend. “Lay your weary head to rest, my wayward son.”

“I want so badly to refuse.”

“I forbid such things.”

“Damn.” Michael cursed flatly, finally taking Jeremy up in the offer of laying his weary head to rest. He took it as a victory. He was beginning to take most of the night as a victory. Sure, there were parts where Jeremy was beyond disappointed with himself, but that was justified. He and Michael were talking things out and making things better. That was more than he could’ve asked for.

Repositioning took place, as often happens when when you’re on any sleeping surface, bed, couch or otherwise. More so since two people were sharing the same sleeping surface. They stayed facing one another, something that continued to fill Jeremy with so much nostalgia and emotion and... God, he missed Michael, so much.

“Mikey?”

He didn’t intend to break out the nickname. He didn’t regret doing so.

“Hm?”

Those pesky feelings were trying their damndest to do something they considered romantic. Those feelings were also higher than Polaris, so what little bit of Sane and/or Sober Jeremy there was was trying his damndest to not say or do any of the things that could possibly make Michael uncomfortable. He tried oh so hard to stay within the realm of things considered platonic. The borders of that realm were fuzzy though. How could he be sure that his thoughts came across in the right light?

“I can’t even articulate how... how much you mean to me.”

That had multiple true meanings. Jeremy was never the best with words, often tripping over them when he couldn’t think of them and going on tangents when he could. That was ‘can’t’ expressing ability. ‘Can’t’ expressing permission delved into the messiness of feeling stronger for someone than they do for you. Jeremy wasn’t allowed to feel that way for Michael. But since trying to redirect or control those feelings went SO WELL the last time he tried to do it, the best he could do was never let his friend know about them.

Ergo, he honestly couldn’t articulate how much Michael truly meant to him.

“Me neither. Think maybe you could try showing it... some other way?”

Oof.

Well.

Jeremy was more than a little guilty of imagining kissing Michael to show the amount of care and affection he felt for him. But given recent events, and these previously discussed taboo feelings, that wouldn’t be the smartest of choices. The option he went with was more or less the safest one. He scooted closer to the object of his affection, resting his forehead on his clavicle, still in a strange curled-up shape.

One of Jeremy’s sweater-pawed hands found a place on Michael’s side a few inches below his armpit while the other nestled up near his heart. The steady beating nearly radiated through the fabric layers onto his fingertips. Occasionally, he wondered if it skipped a beat. It could’ve been Jeremy simply missing it, but he couldn’t be sure.

He tapped a finger against his friend’s collarbone, wanting to say more. Wanting to tell Michael what he needed to know. “Hey,” Jeremy said quietly. Michael hummed in acknowledgement. This was Jeremy’s chance to speak. To say something important. But not outlandish. Outlandish could scare Michael away. Outlandish wasn’t safe.

Yet at the same time...

The urge.

The urge to say ‘I love you’ was so strong. There was little else he could think to say. There was little else he wanted to say.

But he couldn’t say that. He wasn’t allowed. But oh how he so badly wanted to. Oh how it hurt how much those three little words wanted to escape. How much pressure there was to get them out and into the world. How badly it hurt to keep them in, sealed behind closed lips and a constant reminder that letting them ring would cause the end of his happy days.

But oh how badly he wanted Michael to know. How badly he wanted Michael to know that the events of the SQUIP were as painful for himself as they were for him. How badly Michael needed to know that even through all the radio silence, Jeremy never hated him. How badly Michael needed to know that the exact opposite was true. How badly Michael needed to know that Jeremy could never in his wildest dreams bring himself to hate him.

So how could he repress the urge? How could he make all of this known without saying those words?

Exhaustion gently washed over Jeremy like another blanket tucking him in, pulling a yawn out of him. “You’re my favowite pewson.” Some of the words became slurred, but that wasn’t even one of the things on his long list of worries. The list seemed to shrink with each passing minute of being in high bliss.

Michael’s body twitched in a short chuckle. At least that’s what it sounded like. “I know.”

That’s what Jeremy hoped it was.

“And?”

“And I could say the same to you.”

The worry fell away, pulling at Jeremy’s mouth in a smile. His head shifted slightly, hair brushing against Michael’s chin and neck. Whether this was a direct cause of him securing his grip around the smaller boy more tightly or not was anyone’s guess. But it felt nice nonetheless.

It ached to not let it be known how much Jeremy really cared for Michael, it really did, but what more could he ask for when he was in his own personal heaven? Having just finished smoking in Michael’s basement. Wearing Michael’s soft hoodie. Simply being with Michael.

What more could he ask for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had put a pic of a doodle I made of Chrissy saying “A date, it is not!” here. 
> 
> But when I pasted it that didn’t end up showing up. 
> 
> So Rip in peace me. 
> 
> Aight time for the inspo shiz. 
> 
> Don’t mind me my elbows pop randomly it’s fine. 
> 
> JJ is any one of my cats at any given moment, past and present. Cupcake’s nickname was Turdball (RIP in peace.) Being a parrot is something JoanZee does frequently. She’s my confused birb and I love her. 
> 
> Jake’s Totally Effective Warning Text is based on a letter my real parents sent me when I went to some camp thing like 5 years ago. I just changed names, added a couple lines and misspelled some more things. And obviously Jenna’s add-on is different than what my mom said. :P
> 
> “A three pronged fork is a threek” was a thing on Tumblr probably. (Side note I told this to the guy playing the pirate king in Pirates of Penzance on October 23 and he loved it so much - side side note he was carrying a plastic fork for reasons I’ve yet to determine - that he wrote it on his hand so that he’d remember it. ((He dropped the fork and I took it and didn’t give it back until the next day.)) I was in the choir room for rehearsal the next day and I found something in the back so I was like “gasp!” So I grabbed it and ran to him cuz he was also there and I was like “MY KING!” And he was like “WHAT” and I was like “I FOUND A SPOON!” Then he laughed and told me I could keep it and I was honored.)
> 
> “You come here often, I live here” was a product of my friend and I being stupid. We agreed this would happen to the Boyfs and it did. Right Heere right now. I even put it on Tumblr which is the same name I go by Heere cuz I’m an uncreative ass. 
> 
> “JJ’s a homo sapien” based off an actual conversation I had with a human and her cat. I’m not a stoner but damn do I act like one.

**Author's Note:**

> I had to write this a couple times cuz my iPod kept kicking me off of Safari. Hhhhhhh, but I found a way to work around it so it's all good. Please be patient with me, I don't know how often I'll be able to update this. I've got the beginning and end of this figured out, everything in between is up in the air.


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